


Open Hand or Closed Fist

by lazarusthefirst



Series: Open Hand or Closed Fist [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Captivity, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Some fluff if we're lucky, some violence, war (references)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 66,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: Technically it was all Neil’s fault. He was the organiser. But Jean blamed Kevin for getting him all riled up and enabling his crazy escape attempts. Not many ever managed to escape from the Moriyama Estate. But that didn’t stop them all from trying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to say that this was inspired by watching Chicken Run too many times, but my mother didn't raise a liar.
> 
> Writing this alongside an unrelated nanowrimo because I love a difficult life!

Forty-nine days. Jean had been in solitary confinement for forty-nine days. Fifty was the longest anyone had ever been in the hole for. Jean was hoping very much that tomorrow, the fiftieth day, would be the last for him. No one had ever been in here longer than that. And he should know. No one had gotten caught quite so often as Jean, either.

Technically it was all Neil’s fault. He was the organiser. But Jean blamed Kevin for getting him all riled up and enabling his crazy escape attempts. Not many ever managed to escape from the Moriyama Estate. But that didn’t stop them all from trying. They were down to once every two weeks now, sometimes three, simply because they were running out of ideas.

Neil did all the planning. Kevin was the raw determination behind every effort. And Jean was the one who always seemed to be bringing up the rear, or gathering someone who had fallen, or punching someone who had seen them. The others would escape, and Jean would get thrown in the hole.

It had to be the fence, mused Jean. The fence was the most obvious way, and so the least likely to get them caught. Even though he disliked the escape attempts more than anyone else, there was little else to do in the hole but think of another one. Neil would be waiting for him when he got out, expecting some new scheme they hadn’t already thought of.

But there were simply too many guards, too many eyes on them at all times. There was the count, roll call, metrics to be met, names on the board with their numbers underneath.

There was an anti-escape faction, though they didn’t cause as much trouble as they could have. They didn’t exactly rat them out for better rations or treatment, because such things didn’t exist, but they feared the Moriyama’s retribution more than they hated life under them. That was just the way sometimes, and Jean respected that. He’d been like that. In fact, he’d very much still like to be like that, but Kevin and Neil wouldn’t let him.

‘It can’t just be about surviving,’ Kevin would say. ‘Even if we die trying, it’s better than this.’

Personally, Jean would prefer not to die. But Kevin was a fanatic, and Neil was scarcely any better. And they were his friends. It was a strange kind of friendship that felt more based on need and dependence than actually enjoying each other’s company. But he helped them because he had nothing else to do with his time, and because arguing with them was better than sitting on his bunk alone.

It was hard to keep track of the days and nights in solitary. His first time, Jean thought he could just pace the days away and figure out what time to sleep based off whenever he felt tired. There was only one meal per day, served some time in the afternoon, so he couldn’t tell time that way.

But inertia was a funny thing. The less he moved, the more tired he became. His body was used to hard work and a strict routine, and little sleep. Solitary provided the opposite. When the door finally opened on the fiftieth day, Jean was sluggish, gaunt, and extremely sensitive to light.

‘Number 3. Moreau, Jean,’ called a bored voice. The guard who watched solitary had an easy shift with Jean. No fighting, no spitting, no dirty protests, no escape attempts. Jean hobbled out of the cell, shielding his eyes with his forearm. He was a pro at this. Of the last three years, Jean had probably spent at least one of them total locked in this hole.

It was a long path back to General Population from the exterior building where solitary was located. They’d woken him up just in time for the morning shift. Jean’s count would be right back at zero after his fifty day absence. There were some who tried their best to get thrown into solitary, just to get away from the work for a while. But they were only given a day or so at most. The guards could tell the difference between those shirking work and people like Jean.

Security at Moriyama Estates was not that tight. It was built to keep the war out rather than keep people in, and every so often, someone did escape. As Jean was marched back to Gen Pop, he counted the ways in his head. The smuggler tunnels were the main one. Narrow and pokey, they were scarcely big enough for a full grown adult. Someone like Jean would never make it the whole way - his shoulders were far too broad - but a scrappy little guy like Neil would have a shot.

Then there were the supply trucks. Different groups worked the ins and outs each week, and it wouldn’t be impossible to subdue the guards and get into the back of a truck before it pulled away.

And of course, there were the more traditional schemes. Tunnelling, climbing the fence, hiding outside and waiting for night and hoping you could get out before the count discovered you missing.

Those were just the three most obvious ones. There was a whole list on the back of Neil’s headboard, although most of them were now scratched off.

The clattering of boots all around him told Jean that he’d missed breakfast, and everyone was heading to the main hall for the count. His stomach lurched, empty for hours now. He knew without having to work it out how many hours there were until his next meal, and right now it felt like too many.

But Kevin and Neil had been counting the days too, and they were already standing in line when he arrived. Jean moved slowly, his body feeling one hundred years old, and stepped into his place between them. Kevin handed him a breakfast roll from up his sleeve, which Jean didn’t even bother to pick clean before stuffing into his mouth. While he chewed, Neil handed him a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil. Once the day’s work began, all thought would be wiped from Jean’s brain.

‘Any insights?’ Neil murmured.

Jean was already scribbling. The gate clanged open moments later, but he was already handing the paper and lead back to Neil.

‘Good to see you,’ murmured Kevin, out of the corner of his mouth. Day one post-solitary was the only time Jean got anything like affection from Kevin. Almost made it worth it.

‘You too,’ Jean replied, nudging his hand. The breakfast roll had more sausage than egg, just like Jean liked it, meaning Kevin had made it specifically for Jean and not just saved one of his own.

Beside him, Neil was frowning. ‘I thought we tried going under?’

Jean took the paper quickly and turned it the other way around.

‘Oh. Over.’

Jean nodded, glancing back towards the gates where the guards were filing in. Moments later, work duties flashed up on to the overhead boards. Jean’s sense of the schedule was completely skewed, and he had to search to find his number. He noted that the total count reached 130 now. One number greater than before.

‘Two didn’t last,’ Kevin said, knowing what Jean was thinking.

One out of three was the average. Jean wondered who the new person was.

‘We’ve got a shipment coming in tonight,’ Neil said, tucking Jean’s note away safely. ‘It’ll be good to have your help again.’

Neil, Kevin and Jean had been running the smuggling game since its conception. The tunnel under the Estate serviced a fairly busy trade route across the northern part of the country, and after some bad products and unreliable delivery times, Neil had taken over the shipments. He was extremely hard to please, but this new duo had been more reliable than Jean had expected so far.

But he left all of that to Neil. He had the ambition and drive of twelve people, and where he flagged he had Kevin to shout him back to his feet. Jean trailed along in their wake, carrying the bags.

Neil and Kevin’s counts were both down. That happened whenever Jean went away. Something about Jean balanced the two of them out. Just from the way they were standing when he’d come in, Jean knew they’d been fighting.

‘Slackers,’ he murmured.

Neither of them could respond, because the count was beginning and the guards were scrutinising them. They went through the numbers one by one; Jean listened carefully for the call of number 130; it was a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t see her from the front.

After the count it was straight to work. Jean was still light sensitive and the Moriyamas were cruel, so Jean was sent out into the sun to dig. Neil went to the laundries, which he hated. He was too small to reach the machine drums comfortably. And Kevin, as usual, went upstairs to wait on the Moriyamas themselves. Riko loved nothing more than seeing him carry around plates and sweep floors and serve him food. It wasn’t every week, but it was frequent enough to send Kevin into a black mood or a gloomy depression. It made Neil mad as hell.

Everyone avoided Jean like the plague. He still had the stink of solitary upon him; it was actually bad enough that he could smell himself, now that he was out in the open. The guards enjoyed seeing everyone swerve away from him. Neil and Kevin were the only ones who’d acted like there was nothing wrong.

Jean couldn’t stop running his tongue over the gritty film over his teeth. His hair hung lank and greasy in his eyes, his beard was unkempt, and his skin felt thick with oil and dirt. Just another little way to dehumanise him.

They dug trenches and planted bulbs, pulled up weeds and killed insects and parasites. There were rocks to be moved and plants to be watered, and after lunch they moved to the gardens and trimmed the hedges, mowed the lawns, picked up stray leaves and trash and cigarette butts, cleaned bird shit, chased away squirrels, and generally did everything else that was required to keep expansive manor grounds spick and span.

The only place Jean actually liked working was on the farm itself. The murmured sounds of the animals were comforting, because they at least were fairly happy and being treated well. The sweet smells of their feed and the hay were more pleasant than industrial cleaner or washing detergent or the heavy cooking smells from the rest of the facility. And the animals didn’t insult him. It was almost good work. Which of course meant that Jean hardly ever got assigned to it.

As he worked in the gardens, sweating over a patch of weeds, Jean couldn’t prevent that idle thought of what would it be like to just make a run for it. Would they shoot him? They’d probably chase him, given who he was. Another spell in solitary. With every new stint, Jean wondered how many lives he had left.

Some plans were gentle, unremarkable failures that died quiet deaths before anyone had to take any risks. But those plans were fading in favour of the bigger, grander chances. Options were becoming slim on the ground.

But the Moriyamas were smart. They knew the best prisons were those of their own making. And they were steadfast and resolute in ensuring that Jean, Kevin, and Neil, never worked the same assignments during the day. The only times they could see each other freely were first thing at breakfast and count, and last thing after dinner and count. Far away from the walls and the doors and the fences and trucks. So no matter how many times Jean saw his escape route in front of him, or tried to plan something that only he could pull off, it was always just a dream. He’d never leave without Kevin and Neil. Where would he go? What would he do without them? He didn’t remember what the world out there was like anymore. Maybe he’d never known at all. Maybe his memories were just imaginings. Dreams, or wishes.

And ever since Kevin and Neil had grown quietly, secretly, but definitely closer, Jean had been nursing a tiny, private fear that one day he’d wake up and they’d have left without him.

As the day wore on, Jean realised that the new girl was on his detail. She looked as exhausted and wrung out as Jean felt. Her long blonde hair was hanging in stringy clumps scraped back from her face, and her teeth were yellow. Still in the first month, then. They kept you unclean for the first month, to make sure no one got too close to you. Break those bonds before they even started.

Jean, being in a similar state, felt the need to reach out in solidarity.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked her quietly. He’d shuffled down the line until he was kneeling beside her in the dirt.

She looked up, startled. Probably he was the first person to talk to her since she’d arrived.

‘What? Katelyn.’ She hunched back, defensive. She looked ready to fight.

Jean nodded, returning to the work. ‘I’m Jean,’ he said. ‘Well done on making it this far.’

Katelyn didn’t relax her posture, but she dug her hands back into the soil so she wouldn’t get shouted at.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered. ‘There were two others with me. They …’

‘I heard,’ he said.

Katelyn hesitated, then nodded. Jean hoped they’d died quickly, so she hadn’t become attached to them. When Jean had arrived, there had been only Kevin. Under the circumstances, neither of them had been very willing to make friends with each other.

‘Why haven’t I seen you around?’ she asked.

That was a good sign. One hundred and thirty people total, not including the guards, and she already knew Jean hadn’t been around.

‘Got into a bit of trouble,’ he replied, trying for levity. ‘If you ever want a bit of time to yourself just try dismantling the draining pipe under the main kitchen sink. They’ll lock you up good. Won’t let you have a toothbrush, though.’

He was joking, but Katelyn looked at him seriously. ‘You were trying to escape?’

Jean nodded. ‘We do that a lot,’ he said. ‘But if you have any ideas besides the really obvious ones then I’m all ears.’

He was just making conversation, but Katelyn looked at him with a spark of hope in her eyes. Jean cursed himself mentally. He hadn’t really meant to give her hope. It would only leave her desperate like Neil, or bitter like Kevin. Or lifeless, like Jean.

Jean ate dinner alone, too tired to seek out the others. He kept his eyes on his food and focused on getting as much of it into his body as possible before it was taken away from him. He ended up feeling over-full and heavy, but too desperate for the calories and energy to bother moderating his intake. Jean’s stomach wasn’t used to large portions of food, due to the periodic starving he’d been subjected to throughout his life. He leaned against the wall outside the eating hall, trying to breath through it, as the other workers streamed past him, tired and dirty and longing for bed. This was how they ended every day, pretty much. Jean himself could think of nothing but a shower and his pillow, which is how the Moriyamas liked it.

Jean trailed them slowly upstairs to the washrooms. He was too tired to jostle for position, and ended up at the back of the queue, listening to the very limited hot water drain away. By the time he got under the hose it was barely lukewarm, but he didn’t care. Being last meant he could take longer. He scrubbed almost his entire portion of soap into his skin, and massaged the rest into his hair, using his nails to scrape the dirt and oil away. The water around his ankles swirled brown with filth. Jean stayed under the spray until it was too cold to bear anymore, then went in search of his toothbrush.

Cubby number three was all the way at the top of the rows, between Kevin’s number 2 and Neil’s number 4. Thankfully, Jean’s toothbrush was untouched. He also had a blunt razor, which managed to be about 70% efficient at shaving. Jean normally let it grow for a week or so simply because it was a chore to shave off, but his beard grew inconveniently fast and right now it was approaching wild man from the mountains levels. He hadn’t wasted any soap on it, and now spent twenty painful minutes shaving it off as best he could in the cracked, foggy mirror. He burned through his razor pretty quick and went back for Neil’s, who struggled to grow even a few wispy hairs and could fuck right off. Jean was in need.

Eventually, he was mostly hairless. He’d never get rid of his stubble completely with razors this shitty, but Jean was used to making do. Then he scrubbed his teeth until his gums bled while almost falling asleep at the sink. He was halfway down the stairs to the dorms when he groaned and leaned against the wall, remembering his promise to help with the delivery.

It was a long way back down to ground level, but that’s where the tunnels were, and if they weren’t there to open them up for the delivery then that was that. Mostly it was information they were looking for,news of the war and of the outside - but also small tools and things they needed. Over the years, they’d branched out into helping almost everybody who worked there, including a few of the guards. Now they brought in cigarettes, birth control, hormone medication, contact lenses, dental floss, vitamin D, lube, NyQuill, and pretty much anything else that could be hidden in pockets.

Because Neil and Kevin were paranoid bastards, they didn’t trust anyone else enough to bring them in on the smuggling business. And because they’d evolved it to be a specifically three-man job, everyone had been running on empty since Jean had been away. They’d managed to chance just one brief delivery, but their deliveries had expanded greatly over the last year or so, and they’d only managed to take in about a quarter of the shipment without Jean. Bad times for everyone.

Jean slipped through the unguarded entrance and down the stone steps, pulling his hood up over his head against the chill. His hair was getting long around his ears; he wished he’d used some of the razor on it before it had passed the point of usefulness.

Kevin and Neil were already there. Neil stood by the covered manhole, arms folded impatiently. It was smack in the centre of the storage room; they threadbare rug they kept over it was now flipped back, exposing the circular cover. Kevin was standing over Neil, looking down him intently. Clearly they’d been having a heated discussion, but had broken off when they’d heard Jean coming.

‘You look better,’ Neil commented. This was an unusual comment for him to make; Jean knew he was avoiding whatever had Kevin so ruffled.

‘I used your razor,’ he said. Neil’s face fell, and Kevin threw Jean a glare and put a hand on Neil’s shoulder. Jean only rolled his eyes. The things he did to keep the peace between the two of them.

The low sound of metal scraping metal from further back down the tunnel beneath their feet brought them to attention. Then came were two quick knocks on the underside of the metal cover. Neil was already there, unscrewing the bolts with deft fingers and prying the lid away.

Blinking up at them from the murky darkness were two blonde heads, both looking cranky as usual.

‘There’s more than usual,’ was Aaron’s only comment, as he started passing up stuff. Andrew climbed out to help; he was the bulkier of the two, and short though he was, he didn’t enjoy the tunnelling. It was done with a series of ropes and pulleys while lying on a metal cart, and meant long hours for the twins on their bellies, using their strong arms to pull themselves over great distances, the cart of supplies between them. They had the look of men who used to be a lot bulkier than they were; as it was, they were barely slim enough to fit through the narrow tunnels

Jean noticed that Neil stiffened a bit when Andrew stood up between him and Kevin. Andrew was actually shorter than Neil but he managed to look bigger than both Neil and Kevin. It was something about the way he stood, and the way he looked at them all as if they were two feet tall. Jean didn’t have much of an opinion of him, but clearly he’d missed something while he was away.

‘You’re back,’ Aaron stated, squinting. He handed up Jean’s iron pills, which were gratefully received. They knew by now what Jean’s absences meant, and always had a little extra for him. The twins might be sullen and unfriendly, but they were good at their jobs.

‘I am,’ Jean said. ‘Thank you.’

He never elaborated. It was hard enough explaining it to himself.

The three of them stuffed their pockets with everything they could carry. Tubes and packets and pills went up their sleeves, cigarettes and condoms and floss into the linings of their sweaters, hastily secured with secret buttons. There were several items that Neil took quickly and stashed behind the wall panels; their own personal emergency supplies that he worked out with Andrew. There were also a few extra request items tonight; someone wanted toothpicks, and someone else wanted a pencil sharpener. There was also a small bag of marbles.

‘Where the hell am I going to put these?’ Neil demanded of no one and everyone.

’Shove them up your ass for all I care,’ Andrew replied with his usual cheerful smile that never reached his eyes. Neil didn’t glare like Jean expected him to, though.

‘Give them to me,’ Kevin snapped, snatching them from him. For some reason, he was glaring at Neil. Jean shook his head and leaned down to shake Aaron’s hand.

‘Thanks again,’ he said.

‘How’s Nicky?’ Aaron asked quickly, before Andrew could get back in and shut him up.

‘Fine,’ Jean said, over the sound of Andrew’s exasperated sigh. ‘Doing well. He said he’ll have a letter next time, now that he has more paper.’

Aaron nodded. The twins acted like they barely knew Nicky, but Aaron always asked.

‘Oh, there’ll be a stop here in three night’s time’ Andrew added carelessly. From the sharp way Aaron looked at him, this was news to him too.

‘What?’ snapped Kevin. ‘We can’t plan for that with so little warning.’

Andrew shrugged. ‘Fine, let them bang away on the door until someone discovers them. What do I care? 10pm. They’ll need food and water.’

10pm was very late for them. Kevin opened his mouth to argue pointlessly, but Jean cut across him. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Is that everything?’

Aaron looked about done, but Andrew threw one last look up at them. ‘Think about the marbles,’ he said to Neil, who just stared back. Kevin looked outraged; Jean put a hand on his arm just in case he was thinking about jumping into the tunnel and killing someone. Not that Jean gave him great odds on that. The twins were a foot shorter than him but were both built like small mountains. Jean didn’t like the idea of being in a confined space with either of them.

Aaron looked like he wanted to smack his brother, but got back down on his cart and started to pull himself away. Jean waited until Andrew had dropped his insolent gaze from Neil and was getting back down on to his belly before picking up the cover and screwing it back into place. Then they shut the light off and escaped out the doors to do a quick round of the dorms before bed, offloading as much as they could before the suspicious rattling and their slow, awkward movements gave them away.

By the time Jean got into his own bed, his body was audibly groaning. Sometimes he felt his bones creaking as though they were made of old, soft wood. He wondered how long it would take him, at this rate, to decompose completely. He and Kevin were the oldest test subjects, and so far they were doing ok by certain standards, but Jean couldn’t speak much to their mental states. Kevin was paranoid and angry all the time. Jean jumped at shadows and heard voices in his head, and sometimes he felt so crippled by loneliness that he thought he might fade away when no one was looking.

Neil handled things a little better, but he’d only been here three years. Three years was nothing. Jean and Kevin were practically lifers. The war had nothing to do with them.

His bed, never soft, felt luxurious as he lay down upon it. Around him, other bodies shifted and coughed. The doors would lock very soon. Anyone who had to pee was shit out of luck until morning. Kevin and Neil slept on either side of him, but they had not found their way to bed yet. Jean had been away for a while, so this didn’t feel strange to him. It wasn’t until they returned a while later, together, that he realised this was unusual for them.

 

The next day passed the same as the one before it, except Jean woke up to daylight and the sounds of other bodies. He was stiff and sore, but Kevin’s hair was sticking up all over the place and Neil hopped back and forth in agitation because he needed the toilet, and it was easier to find humour amongst them after so long by himself.

He stuck to them like glue until they had to separate after count. It was difficult for Jean to be alone. Solitary was different, because there was no one around to make him feel lonely. But when he was surrounded by people, yet connected to none of them, the loneliness was gaping and profound, almost like another kind of starvation.

Jean was back in the gardens again. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he rolled up his sleeves and tried to absorb as much sunlight as he could. It was early in the year, and the suns rays were weak, but Jean would take whatever he could.

He found Katelyn working next to him. Now that Jean was clean, her growing filth seemed more obvious to him, but he did his best not to shy away from her. She looked about as starved for human contact as he did.

‘You look better,’ she said, smiling at him as they worked the earth. ‘Beards age people, I think. Yours was quite wild. Impressive, though.’

Despite her calm words and smile, Jean could sense her desperation, and a frantic edge to her chatter. She was starved, too.

‘Thank you,’ he said, quietly. Smiles were a bit far from him still, but he did look her in the eye. ‘How long have you been here for?’

Katelyn sighed. ‘Almost a month,’ she said. ‘People say it changes after a month. Does it?’

Jean nodded. He bumped his knuckles against hers, feeling a brush of sympathy.

‘You’ll be alright soon,’ he told her. If she was smart, then it was the truth.

Jean ate more normally at dinner that night. Kevin and Neil bickered on either side of him, but it felt more companionable than argumentative. Other people made him nervous, but Kevin and Neil felt extensions of his arms and legs, and he could talk and breathe and be around them.

On nights with no delivery to make, the three of them usually met to discuss the next attempt. They had a couple of good spots throughout the complex where they could huddle and be discreet, and still get back to bed before lights out. They did have some crude lock picks if necessary, but being around after lights out brought its own dangers. The nights held the smallest of freedoms, but they held tight to it.

But tonight, maybe out of respect for what Jean had just gone through, Neil didn’t bring up any new plan. Jean had spent a long time washing up after dinner, still feeling the grime of solitary upon him. When he went looking for them, he didn’t find them right away.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked, rattled, when he found them red faced and breathless in one of their old haunts. Clearly arguing again. He didn’t like wandering around without them.

‘Right here,’ said Kevin, teeth clenched. He wasn’t looking at Jean. Neil glared right back at him.

‘Ok, fine,’ Jean said, frowning. ‘Can we just go for a walk or something?’

The tone of his voice finally reached Kevin and Neil. They looked at him with more than a little guilt, and silently flanked him down the hallway. Jean shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to organise his thoughts.

‘The new girl is alright,’ he said quietly into the silence. ‘There’s life in her.’

Neil didn’t say anything, but Kevin scoffed. ‘It’s barely been amonth,’ he said.

Jean ignored the tone. ‘I’d like to bring her on board,’ he said.

Neil almost stumbled. ‘You what?’

Kevin scoffed louder. ‘You went soft in solitary, Jean.’

‘It’s not that,’ he protested, though it may well have been.

‘This better not be about hope again,’ Kevin said, loudly.

‘That’s all we have, Kevin,’ Neil said, an edge to his voice. This was an old argument. ‘What the fuck do you think we’re doing here?’

Jean gave a little sigh. ‘She can help us out,’ he said. ‘She has more life in her than the three of us put together. More sense too, probably. We’ve been in here too long.’

‘In here is not like out there,’ Kevin reminded him. ‘The two don’t relate. She needs to forget it, not hold on to it.’

Jean paused, and turned to him. ‘You really think anyone can hold on to it in here? Did he?’

He jerked his head towards Neil, who was watching them both with his careful blue eyes.

‘Another pair of hands wouldn’t be so bad,’ Neil conceded softly, after a minute’s standoff.

Kevin shot a look at Neil like he couldn’t believe the betrayal. Neil averted his gaze, but Jean looked back until whatever Kevin saw in Jean’s eyes decided him.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘She gets a trial. She can help us the next time we have to go downstairs.’

‘Can’t believe how easy that was,’ Neil murmured.

‘Neil, I swear to fucking god - ‘

‘Thank you,’ Jean said quietly, to both of them. He put hands on their elbows and steered them back down the hall. Sometimes they just got a little hot and needed to walk it off.

Katelyn’s smile could have stunned a man at twenty paces when Jean got a look at her the next afternoon. The sun was out; the rays were weak still, but it bounced off her golden hair and clean teeth and made her shine.

‘My gums hurt,’ she admitted quietly to Jean, who actually managed a smile.

‘Would you like to help us out tomorrow evening?’ he asked, as they carefully picked tomatoes.

Katelyn glanced at him warily. ‘Will it get me thrown into wherever they sent you? I only just got a toothbrush.’

Jean shrugged. ‘We’ve never been caught helping the smugglers,’ he said. ‘It’s a tried and tested process. But only if you’re up for it.’

Katelyn didn’t need any real persuading. Already Jean could see how the daily routine was grinding her down. The checks, the counts, the tallies to meet.Each day was a struggle to not accept your lot and do it anyways, to find it in your heart to despise your work and those who forced you to keep at it. It took a lot of energy to resist, even in such small ways. Jean liked that Katelyn had lots of it. It was good energy, strong and clean. He could lean on that. Kevin and Neil would help her to survive, and hopefully she would remind them how to live. Jean and Kevin had never learned how, and he wasn’t sure that Neil had ever really known, even before he’d come to be in here.

That night at dinner, Katelyn sat nearby. Jean was pleased to see that she had attracted two others female friends, as he felt women tended to do effortlessly. Jean often wished that others would gravitate to him as fearlessly as these women who met up and clumped together, inviting each other in and sharing. Jean had only these two scowling cats on either side of him, who he knew would probably die for him but also didn’t know how to give him so much as a smile.

‘She’s too happy,’ Kevin said. ‘It’ll get her noticed.’

This was nonsense grumbling, and Jean ignored it.

‘She looks strong,’ Neil noted.

‘She is.’ Jean was very focused on cutting up his food into small pieces and then chewing them very well. Twice this year he’d been caught by some anti-escape factions after dinner and shaken down. He’d thrown up both times afterwards. So, small pieces and small bites were best.

It wasn’t that the Moriyamas retaliated against the general populace after an escape attempt. But it did inspire others to slack off, to plot, to imitate. Tallies went down, groups got slower, everyone had to work a little bit harder. Jean understood those angry people who wanted him to keep his head down like them and continue on until they could go no further.

The next morning, the reality that the anti-escape faction were so afraid of was brought home, hard.

Everyone saw it, as soon as the board clicked on. A group had dropped below the acceptable margin. It wasn’t Jean’s group, nor Kevin’s or Neil’s. That was the first thing Jean saw.

No one said anything. A deathly hush fell over the rows of bodies. Those in the red group knew exactly who they were, but others fidgeted, looking around, wondering who was in for it.

Guards entered from either side of the hall, more than there usually were. The red group still pulsed on the screen. Normally, they would be able to see their own individual tallies by now. But showing the individual with the below-margin score would cause a panic. Or, more of a panic than was already being generated. It was like a current, catching them all up.

It was very quick. It had to be. This was the time when everyone was the most vulnerable, including the guards. The list of names appeared, the one below the required margin visible for all to see. Jean didn’t catch the name. He didn’t see the person being dragged from the crowd, up the stairs and into the back room, which had thin walls by design. As the man was crying out, being held down, the gun being pressed to his temple, Jean’s eyes were running over the rest of the names on screen. All the groups were visible now.

‘Kevin,’ Jean said quietly.

Despite the commotion and noise and distraction, Kevin heard his voice and turned his head.

‘Your count,’ Jean said, quietly. Kevin followed his gaze; Neil too.

‘It’s always low,’ Kevin said.

‘Not that low,’ Neil said, slowly.

Working in the upper levels was typically for the most trusted and favoured of them. And Kevin, but for different reasons. It was easy to keep a high count. Those groups barely even had to look at their names each morning.

Kevin’s count was low, and it was not from slacking off.

The day’s work was frantic, the mood subdued. Jean could see that Katelyn was nervous. They all were. Except Jean. He’d been doing this too long to let his count tick anywhere near the danger levels.

But he kept thinking of Kevin’s count, absurdly low for him. Kevin could hit the high numbers in his sleep. Jean began to worry that finally the Moriyamas had started to take it out on him. Kevin hadn’t looked worried, but Neil had.

Jean exchanged only a few quiet words with Katelyn about what would happen that night. He left the door still open to her if she wanted to back out. She didn’t respond to that, but her face looked more thoughtful than anxious or scared. Jean appreciated that she seemed to be giving it some decent thought.

Dinner was an almost silent affair. Jean, Kevin, and Neil didn’t usually talk while they ate. They concentrated on their food, and left it all for later. But there was a definite air of tension that hadn’t existed the night before.

Later, Neil asked if Jean thought she’d still come. Jean nodded with confidence, and he wasn’t disappointed. They all arrived separately, and Katelyn was already there when Jean turned up. He met firm gaze and giving her a little nod.

Down here, in relative security and privacy, Katelyn became more animated. Jean could see that Kevin disliked this. Neil had his usual impassive face on, but if she’d been annoying him he wouldn’t have been paying her any attention. Kevin watched Neil, ignoring Katelyn as best he could.

‘So you guys can get anything?’ she asked Jean. Her hand were shoved deep in her pockets, and her long, blonde ponytail swished over her shoulder. With her sweatshirt covering her overalls with the Moriyama crest, she could have been any girl on the outside. Not that Jean really knew what that would look like. But she didn’t look like the rest of the people her age in here.

Jean shrugged. ‘Within reason,’ he said. ‘No weapons. No drugs. Pot, sometimes.’

Kevin tsked, and Jean contented himself with rolling his eyes rather than wading into Kevin’s anti-drug policy.

‘How often do they stop by?’ Katelyn asked.

‘About once a week. It depends. Special orders take longer.’

‘Sometimes it’s unexpected,’ Neil put in, rather unexpectedly himself. ‘Like tonight.’

Katelyn nodded. ‘And how does it all get paid for?’

Jean looked at her, amused by her attention.

’What did you do on the outside?’ demanded Kevin.

Katelyn blinked, then smiled ruefully between him and Jean. ‘I was a journalist,’ she admitted. ‘I was covering the war before it became impossible. Figured I’d end up in one of these places eventually.’

It always surprised Jean when he was reminded of the other facilities like the Moriyama estate, in much the same way as when he remembered there were other countries besides this one that weren’t at war. He wondered if those other places were better or worse.

Neil actually spoke to Katelyn, giving her a little more information about how it all worked. Jean watched them, quietly pleased with himself. Katelyn seemed like exactly the kind of energised yet sensible person that they needed. Kevin and Neil could get a little crazy, and Jean slipped into apathy far too often.

The stop-off time came and went. As the minutes ticked by, Jean and Kevin traded looks over Neil’s head.

‘Stop that,’ Neil said.

’Stop what?’ Kevin asked, still watching Jean.

Neil socked him in the arm, but there was little force behind it.

Katelyn noticed the looks too. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked. She had that careful, objective tone that reminded Jean of someone who was used to asking a lot of questions.

‘They’re late,’ Jean told her.

‘Does that happen often?’

Jean glanced at Kevin before answering. ‘Not usually.’

After about 20 minutes, everyone was getting twitchy. Jean really didn’t adapt well to change; he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms and shooting looks at Kevin, who disliked change even less than Jean. Of the three of them, only Neil really kept it together under pressure.

A loud bang on the grate made everyone jump. Normally, they started to hear the faint slide of the carts a couple of seconds before the knock, but their own worried thoughts had drowned it out. Kevin and Neil went for the manhole cover, and Jean took a moment to check Katelyn’s reaction before stepping out of their way.

Two women clambered out of the hole, sweat shining on their faces and dirt marking their tanned, muscled arms. One dark head, one light. They dragged after them a young man in a similar state, except his face was pale beneath his tan and twisted in pain. Jean blinked in surprise.

‘What happened?’ Kevin demanded. Neil’s brain was probably already spinning, figuring it out, but Kevin’s anxiety needed it said aloud.

‘Complications in Virginia,’ one of the women said, helping to lay the man down on the ground, setting his back to the wall. ‘Or what’s left of it.’

Jean was distracted by more scuffles at the grate. He turned, and was surprised to see one of the twins climbing out. He looked exhausted.

‘Let me help you,’ Katelyn said, hurrying to him. But Andrew - it must have been he - batted her hand away with his usual aversion to other people. He climbed out himself, eyes searching for Neil. He gave no thought to his brother, climbing out behind him.

‘Move, asshole,’ Aaron grumbled, shoving his legs. Andrew got out of the way like it had been his own idea, and Katelyn’s look of annoyance was turned on Aaron, who stopped dead in the act of climbing out, eyes wide.

‘Need a hand?’ Katelyn asked,some bite in her voice. Aaron just stared.

Jean turned back to the more pressing issue. At first glance, the man sitting on the ground had a very obviously dislocated shoulder. There was also a shadowy bruise blooming on his jaw, and his shirt was torn. But, incredibly, he looked amused.

‘It was my own fault,’ he coughed.

‘You’re damn right it was,’ snarled the blonde woman. The dark-haired one cuffed him on the head, but gently. Their faces were angry, and tight with concern.

Kevin looked like he might explode, and Aaron stepped in.

‘Virginia’s gone dark,’ he said, his voice low. ‘It took us a while to get out. This guy kept going back for more.’

‘I was pulling someone into the truck,’ the man explained, looking up at Kevin and Neil’s hard expressions.

‘I hope it was worth it,’ said Neil.

The man blinked. ‘It was, actually. They’re on their way to the border.’

Neil didn’t look impressed. ‘And you’re now stuck here because you can’t pull yourself on the cart, right?’

The women glanced at each other as the man looked down, chastened, despite his brave words.

Kevin was always a little slower than Neil. ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘No, you can’t. There’s nowhere for you to stay. We can’t get caught because of you.’

Kevin feared solitary more than anything else.

‘We can’t take him with us,’ said Aaron. He was standing beside Katelyn with a pained expression, reminding Jean that he was actually a good person.

‘What are we supposed to do about it?’ Kevin snapped.

‘We just need some help for a few days.’

‘And someone to pop this back in, if it’s not too much trouble’ the man said conversationally, though his face was now white with pain and his breath was coming in quick, short little gasps.

Neil turned to Andrew. ‘We don’t have the facilities for this,’ he said. ‘We don’t have the resources.’

’Do I look like I care?’ was Andrew’s response.

‘He’ll need food and water and somewhere to sleep where he con’t get caught,’ Kevin said, running a hand through his hair. ‘This is way too much work. We aren’t prepared for any of this.’

‘Well, why not?’ Katelyn demanded. ‘We have time in the morning and before and after dinner. And I know you three have this placed wired up. You’re not as restricted as the rest of us.’

Neil and Kevin didn’t like that, but Jean spoke up before they could snap at her.

‘We can talk about it later,’ he said, quiet but firm, eyes on his brothers. ‘We’ll help,’ he added to the women, then looked down. The man’s brown eyes were fixed on him thoughtfully, clear despite his pain.

‘I’m Laila,’ the blonde woman said, quietly. ‘This is Alvarez, and that’s Jeremy.’

Jean knelt down and met Jeremy’s eyes. ‘May I?’

Jeremy nodded, still watching him. He was shivering slightly.

Jean reached out and gently touched swollen shoulder. He ran his finger over the lines of the bones, trying to feel if they were broken without hurting him too much. Jeremy trembled hard, but didn’t make a sound.

‘How bad is it out there?’ Neil asked.

Laila and Alvarez spoke quietly, but Jean didn’t listen. He didn’t want to hear any of it. It meant nothing to him.

‘It’s not broken,’ Jean said.

‘You sure?’

Jean’s mouth twitched. ‘I know a broken bone when I see one. It’s just dislocated.’ After another careful probe, he asked, ‘How did it happen? Specifically.’

Jeremy’s mouth slipped into a smile far easier than Jean’s ever could. ‘I run supplies in and out of places like this,’ he said. ‘Different routes, of course. But we received intelligence last week that Virginia was about to go down. Got recruited by some of the old peace core to help smuggle out instead of in. People, not food.’

He hissed suddenly as Jean took a firm grip on his arm.

‘Keep talking,’ Jean said, angling his arm carefully.

A bead of sweat trickled down Jeremy’s temple, but he swallowed and nodded. ‘We got there too late,’ he went on. ‘Or, things just went to shit quicker than anyone thought. There were none of these nifty tunnels to send people into. We were cutting wire fences and pulling random people off the streets and into stolen trucks. Some thought we were on the other side. They resisted. It was only natural, I guess. I was pulling a guy into the back of the truck just as it started to drive. He didn’t want to go, and my arm just - ‘

He broke off with a gasp and a cry of pain as Jean pushed the bone back into place with a loud snap that got everyone’s attention.

Jean ran his hand over the bones to check they were properly set in place. Jeremy was breathing hard, and leaning to one side. Jean steadied him with a hand on his chest, and felt a flicker of surprise at the strength and speed of his heartbeat.

‘You’re ok,’ Jean said, uncertainly.

Jeremy nodded, eyes closed. ‘You didn’t even count to three,’ he said, sounding tired. ‘They always count to three.’

Jean wasn’t sure who he was referring to. ‘Anticipation is worse than pain,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

In his fifteen years under the Moriyamas, Jean had broken close to every bone in his body. He knew how breaks felt, how they bruised and swelled up, how they healed. He’d seen many breaks go bad, too.

‘You’ll need a sling,’ he said. ‘And you won’t be able to use it.’

‘For how long?’

Jean eyed him. ‘Until I say so.’

He expected defiance, but Jeremy just grinned. It was an unexpected, bright thing. He had very good teeth. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘You’re the boss.’

‘Actually, that’s me,’ Kevin interjected. Jean rolled his eyes and gave a little huff of annoyance, much to Jeremy’s amusement.

‘Maybe you can come up with some sort of plan then,’ he said, glancing up at Kevin. ‘He won’t be able to pull himself on those trollies for two weeks at least.’

Neil had already turned away, his shoulders stiff with tension. Laila and Alvarez looked dismayed by the news.

‘Can’t you get me out any other way?’ Jeremy asked, glancing up between Kevin and Jean.

‘If there was another way out, we’d be using it,’ Neil said, still with his back turned.

Jean was already thinking about all of the bolt holes throughout the disused parts of the estate. Some of them were still under construction, but there were a few basement areas where they stored supplies. If they were being deliberately ignored by the guards then they had a good chance of secreting someone away down there. As long as no one up above mysteriously disappeared, they would have no need to go looking anywhere they shouldn’t.

‘We can keep him for a while,’ Jean said. He didn’t raise his voice; Jeremy was so close, and he didn’t want to startle him. Already his eyelids were slipping shut from the pain.

‘Where?’

‘How will we feed him?’

‘We’ll manage,’ Jean said, straightening up. He fixed Kevin with a stare that told him that he would not be moved.

‘Two weeks?’ Laila asked. ‘We can’t circle back that quickly.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Jeremy said, tiredly. He smiled up at them. ‘Just leave one of the carts down here. I’ll get myself out.’

Alvarez folded her arms. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘We can meet you halfway,’ Laila suggested. ‘Twenty miles out.’

Jeremy looked like he might pass out at the suggestion, but he nodded. ‘Yeah, ok. I can do that. Two weeks, twenty miles.’

‘What if you can’t make it?’ Katelyn asked, eyebrows drawn together. ‘What if another Virginia happens?’

‘We can link up with them,’ Aaron said quickly. ‘We’ll help keep communication open.’

Andrew looked at him. ‘On your own?’

Aaron glared at him. ‘If I have to.’

‘Don’t be an asshole, Andrew,’ said Neil.

Jean glanced back down at Jeremy. He was holding his arm gingerly against his body and looking a little unsure at the prospect of signing away his freedom for the next two weeks.

‘We should move him now, then,’ Kevin said, resigned.

Their visitors helped themselves to the supplies Neil had been secreting away down here for the last few days. Jeremy’s friends brought him water and helped him to eat some of the bread and dried meat, but mostly they concentrating on inhaling as much of the food as they could. They had a long way to go before they could eat again.

‘Man, I miss drugs,’ Jeremy commented. ‘Like, painkillers.’

Alvarez grunted in amusement. ‘You think you have it bad? Fucking try being menstrual once a month while running for your life. That’s pain.’

Jean and Neil exchanged glances. The two of them didn’t often see eye to eye, but one thing they did agree on was Kevin, and all matters relating to him. And sometimes Kevin did more damage to himself than either of them could control. So, they were prepared.

‘Hang on,’ Neil said, reluctantly. ‘I’ve got … something.’

Three sets of ears perked up as Neil went to over to the wall at the far side of the dank hallway. Everyone watched him as he rustled around behind the panels. Except Kevin, who stared down at his shoes. Jean watched him carefully until the feeling of another pair of eyes on him caught his attention.

He glanced down. Jeremy’s eyes were open again, and watching him. They were a warm brown, and full of sharp intelligence. Jean supposed anyone who went crawling around beneath the ground and sneaking into war zones had to be clever and quick. Jean wondered how bright his eyes would be after two weeks in the darkness.

‘Here,’ Neil said. Jeremy turned his head, and Jean blinked. Neil was holding out a small pill bottle. It was one of the strongest they had. Jeremy gratefully accepted it, and swallowed two dry.

‘Thanks,’ he said, nodding. ‘I won’t forget this.’ Jean carefully reached down and took the bottle back from him, plucking it from his unresisting fingers.

Kevin just shrugged, but Neil shifted and took a breath. ‘In return for this, you have to help us,’ he said. ‘You have to help us get out.’

Jean frowned. ‘Neil.’

But Neil silenced him with a raised hand. ‘No, Jean,’ he said. ‘I mean it. I’m sick of this.’

Andrew spoke up. ‘Finally,’ he said, with an actual spark of interest. ‘The rabbit chooses freedom.’

Kevin shot a glare at him, but Neil’s look was softer. It was a strange expression to see on his face. Looking between the three of them, Jean felt a bit lost.

Jeremy was looking up at his friends. ‘We can try to do something about that, right?’ he asked, softly.

Laila and Alvarez exchanged looks. Before the could speak, Jean spoke up.

‘This was never about just the three of us,’ he reminded them. ‘It’s about all of us. Everyone here.’

‘Jean’s right,’ Katelyn spoke up. ‘I’ve only been here for a month and I’d already prefer to be out there again.’

Aaron glanced at her swiftly. ‘Just a month?’

Katelyn nodded. ‘Yeah, I was in Jacksonville before.’

‘How’d you get all the way up here?’

‘Aaron.’ Andrew’s voice was loud. ‘We’re going.’

Aaron shot his brother a sour look. ‘Fine,’ he said, sullen. He glanced back at Katelyn almost apologetically. ‘See you.’

Katelyn watched him as he sloped back over to the grate. Andrew, though speaking to his brother, had been staring at Neil, who stared back. Jean felt like an outsider in here, so he looked down at Jeremy.

‘He’s asleep,’ Laila said. She was crouched beside him, watching him tenderly.

‘Am not,’ Jeremy murmured, without opening his eyes.

‘Well, you should be,’ Alvarez said, her voice low and serious. ‘You were out there for longer than anyone today.’

Jeremy, incredibly, cracked a smile. ‘And you two have wasted enough time standing over me like I’m going to die,’ he said, still with his eyes closed. ‘Please head back to camp, ok? Please?’

They didn’t look happy about it, but Laila and Alvarez headed after Aaron. They hugged Jeremy before they left, and kissed his head. Jeremy smiled at them, even cracking open his eyes, but when they disappeared back down the hole his smile went with them.

Andrew was the last to go. He was standing between Neil and Kevin, holding the letter from Nicky that Neil had passed on. If they were waiting for some sort of reaction, Andrew wasn’t about to give it to them. He just shrugged a little, and then climbed down into the darkness. Neil turned to watch him go, and Kevin put a hand on the small of his back. Jean felt a stirring of confused anxiety in his chest.

‘You’d better sort him out,’ Kevin said, turning his head back to look at Jean. Neil moved forward to put the grate back into place, and Kevin’s hand went back to hanging by his side.

‘Could use some help,’ said Jean.

Kevin just shrugged, and looked back to Neil. ‘You can manage on your own. This was your idea.’

Jean stalked over to him angrily. ‘This wasn’t just _my idea_. What else could we do? He’s helping people while we’re stuck in here only helping ourselves.’

Kevin rounded on him, eyes glinting. ‘Who else can we help? Who else matters? Who else would take care of you, Jean?’

He grabbed Jean’s arm, but Jean pulled back.

‘Kevin, give me a hand,’ Neil called.

Jean nodded his head. ‘Go on,’ he said, unable to keep his voice neutral, or his lip from curling into a sneer. Kevin saw it, and recoiled slightly. Jean did not exactly have a sunny disposition; he rarely turned on Kevin like this, but something in the way he was looking at Neil, and touching him, was twisting something anxious in Jean’s stomach.

He shook his head, irritated, and turned back to Jeremy, taking in the sight of him slumped against the wall, head nodding against his chest as he tried to stay awake, arm held painfully against his body. Something softened inside Jean. It might have been pity.

He moved past Neil, who was finally registering Kevin’s attention, and went to their little stash in the wall again. Neil was a meticulous creature; everything in there was incredibly organised, and Jean found the bandages and cloth easily. There was even a little cream that would help the swelling. Foresight was another of Neil’s strong suits.

Returning to Jeremy, he saw that Kevin and Neil were already leaving. They were arguing quietly, but Kevin had his hand on Neil’s back again.

‘Hey.’

Jeremy’s voice floated through Jean’s mind, distracting him.

‘Here,’ he said, kneeling down beside him once more. ‘Give me your arm.’

Jeremy laughed weakly. ‘It’s yours to take,’ he said. He could barely lift it.

Jean took his hand. ’Squeeze,’ he commanded. Jeremy did, but with very little strength. Then Jean pulled his ragged t-shirt out of the way and rubbed cream into the swollen joint. Jeremy stiffened and winced, allbravery and good humour gone.

‘Can’t believe this,’ he muttered. ‘You know, I’ve gone the whole three years with barely a scratch? And I’ve been in and out of Georgia, Idaho, Mississippi … I was starting to feel like nothing could touch me.’

Jean raised an eyebrow. ‘Could have been worse,’ he said.

Jeremy nodded, allowing that. ‘True,’ he said. ‘God knows I know enough people who did get it worse.’ He sighed, but there was a smile on the end of it. ‘So I guess I shouldn’t complain, right?’

Jean glanced up at him, surprised that he seemed to be genuinely asking.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I, uh … I wouldn’t know about any of that.’

Jeremy’s eyes raked over his face, and then the hands that were trying to shape a sling for his arm. ‘No offence,’ he said. ‘But you have a crooked nose and crooked fingers.’

Jean’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Excuse me?’

Jeremy blinked and swayed in the face of Jean’s reaction. ‘Sorry,’ he said, a little dazed. ‘I just meant …’

The drugs were kicking in. Jeremy reached up and touched Jean’s face; it was such an innocent, unintentional gesture that Jean didn’t even flinch. He hated feeling the touch of other people, but he held still for him.

‘Someone broke this nose,’ Jeremy said, quietly. ‘And your fingers ….’ He dropped his hand. ‘But you don’t complain.’

There was little known on the outside about what happened inside the estates; this much Jean knew. They kept the war running off the back of slave labour, and it was only through the help of people like the Minyards, reluctant though they might have been, that they survived in here at all. Very little information got out, mainly because there was not much to say. That might not be true for people like Katelyn, but Jean had known no other life.

Jean stayed quiet. Jeremy too fell silent while Jean got his arm into the sling and wrapped it up snug. Jean used the time to think, and by the time he’d tidied things away and collected some spare blankets and clothes from Neil’s stash, a plan was already fully formed in his mind.

He left Jeremy alone for a few minutes. He wouldn’t noticed; he was already in a doze, exhausted by the pain and the drugs. Jean took a little trip further down the disused hallways, noting the time with mild alarm in his head. If he didn’t get back soon, he’d very likely be paying for it.

Standing over Jeremy again, he felt a certain reluctance to wake him. Jean recognised the kind of exhaustion he’d seen lining Jeremy’s face. It was mental fatigue; he needed more than just sleep.

‘Jeremy’ he said, quietly. ‘Come on, time to move.’

Jeremy, in fairness, did his best to rally, but leaned heavily on Jean as he linked him down the halls. Jean started to wonder how strong he really was, and if someone like Jean could even help him survive down here.

Jean took him to a small space behind one of the boilers. It got cold down here, and the boiler would keep him warm. And it wasn’t too far from where Jean needed to be very soon.

‘It won’t be comfortable, but you can sleep here for now,’ Jean said, lowering him down on to the soft padding of blankets he’d made. Jean thought it looked better than the hard, thin mattress he had waiting for him upstairs. ’One of us will come by with some food in the morning. If we can.’

He hesitated, watching Jeremy lower himself painfully to the ground.

‘It’s fine,’ Jeremy assured him. ‘I’ve slept in enough ditches since the war started.’ He gave Jean a beatific smile. ’You’re wonderful hosts up here.’

Jean actually snorted at the absurdity of that statement, and the fact that Jeremy spent so much time tunnelling that he referred to the basement as “up here”. ‘We’ll see how your back feels about that in a few weeks.’

Jeremy gave him a one-shouldered shrug, settling down into the blankets. ‘I’m tougher than I look,’ he said. Then he blinked, and sagged against the wall. ‘Damn, those pills are strong.’

Jean made a noise of amusement. ‘Your tolerance is probably shot to bits,’ he said. This is why he’d taken the pills back. ‘We’ll give you some more tomorrow, if you need them.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘That girl,’ he said. ‘She said you run this place. Have you been here since the start of the war?’

Jean paused for a moment. ‘Get some rest,’ he said, shortly. Then he turned and left.

Jean barely made it back unseen, picking the lock with his heart in his mouth. The dorm was in darkness, everyone indistinct lumps under their blankets except for two angry shapes sitting up in their beds, waiting for him.

‘The guard has been by twice,’ Kevin hissed, slapping at his leg. ‘We had to put our pillows under there.’

Kevin returned their pillows by way of some hard thumps to the head. ‘Thanks for all the help,’ he muttered, climbing into bed. He didn’t feel as tired as he normally did. In fact, he lay awake for quite some time, long after Neil and Kevin’s angry sighs had fallen silent, his thoughts miles away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nanowrimo kicked my ass, I was a fool to think I'd update in November. Here's a chunky chapter for yiz, more updates soon!!

When Jean awoke the next morning, he didn’t immediately realise why he felt different. He rose and dressed quietly, washed up and followed everyone else downstairs. Kevin was not a morning person and Neil was miles away, but it wasn’t until they were sitting down to breakfast that Jean’s eyes went wide, and he remembered Jeremy.

How to manage this day? Jean had no clue where to start. Breakfast could not even be taken as normal, because he would surely have to slip something up his sleeve and somehow find his way to the basement without missing the count.

He could have left him there until evening meal, which would certainly be an easier time to escape. If Jean worked doubly hard today he’d meet his tally early, and have even more time. But he thought of how sparsely Jeremy had picked at his scant food they’d provided the night before, and how much energy his body would use trying to heal. And he’d be down there all day, in a strange environment, hungry and in pain. Jean couldn’t stomach the guilt, and abruptly lost his appetite.

‘What are you doing?’ Neil asked, watching Jean fill a thin tortilla with scrambled egg and sausage. ‘You don’t like egg.’

Jean added some cheese and tomato, anxiety increasing as he realised that Jeremy may like none of these foods. Maybe they ate different foods out there, although Neil had never expressed a dislike for anything in particular.

‘You’re going downstairs?’ Kevin was quicker to catch on. ‘You’ll never make it back before the count.’

Jean pretended not to hear. ‘Don’t wait for me,’ he said, stepping out from the bench.

He hadn’t eaten nearly enough, but didn’t feel the hunger as he hurried to the least frequented part of the ground floor where he might slip down to the lower levels unnoticed. It wasn’t forbidden for them to wander, but they were very closely monitored. Luckily, Jean had been crawling around the estate since he was a child, and he knew the sound of every staircase and the angle of every corridor. He was very good at passing by unnoticed.

The basement hallways were dark and dank at this hour. The lights flickered on automatically as he walked, registering his presence. He had never given this a second thought before, but now it made Jean feel nervous, as though he was being monitored.

Jean was wrapped up in being anxious about missing count or being caught somewhere he shouldn’t be that he forgot to worry about Jeremy.

Jean had left him behind one of the old boilers, and he was pleased to find that it was nicely warm in this area. He expected to find Jeremy asleep or lying down, but he was already up and paused mid-pace to smile at Jean. Jean was rather stunned by that smile.

‘Good morning!’

He was cheerful. It was strange.

‘Er. Hello,’ Jean returned, brilliantly. He slipped the burrito out from his sleeve and offered it in liu of more words. Too late, he saw that there was some lint clinging to it. Jean had eaten more than his share of food secreted in pockets and sleeves and never bothered with any of the extras, but Jeremy would surely turn up his nose.

But he didn’t. He reached for the food gratefully, scarfing it down with a gusto that Jean appreciated.

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled around a mouthful, before swallowing. ‘God, thank you so much. This is great.’

‘There’s a bathroom down there,’ Jean began, but Jeremy grinned.

‘Already found it,’ he said. ‘It was the middle of the night and I was a desperate man. The water tasted kind of funky but I have a strong stomach.’

Robbed of his planned explanation, Jean was left with nothing else to say. So he just nodded.

But Jeremy had plenty to say.

‘I freaked out briefly when all the lights snapped on,’ he said, shifting the burrito around in his hand before angling his head for another bite. He had to eat it one-handed. ‘But no one came running, and they all go off again after a while, if you don’t move. Of course, they woke me up again this morning because I must have been rolling around in my sleep. It certainly doesn’t encourage activities!’

He smiled brightly at Jean, who couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to contribute to this discussion.

Jeremy’s arm was still neatly tucked into its sling. Jean felt brief satisfaction in that he wasn’t fighting his direction.

‘I need to see your arm,’ he said, finally finding his words.

Jeremy nodded and moved over to him helpfully. Jean hadn’t been as prepared as he’d thought he was for the sudden close contact. It was a bit like standing too close to the sun. So much bright warmth and energy in a place where they was usually none at all.

‘How’s it looking, Doc?’ Jeremy asked, sounding unconcerned. He had finished his food, and was cleaning his fingers with his mouth. Jean stuttered briefly and looked away.

‘Still in place,’ he said. ‘Swelling’s going down. How does it feel?’

Jeremy lifted the other shoulder in a shrug. ‘Sore, but not the end of the world,’ he said. ‘Honestly, I was worried it would need surgery.’

‘Surgery,’ repeated Jean. ‘Like, where you get cut open?’

Jeremy eyed him curiously, and Jean instantly regretted asking.

‘Yes,’ Jeremy said, his tone normal but still with that look on his face. ‘Sometimes the bones don’t go back together right. But you clearly knew what you were doing. Who taught you? Or were you a doctor before?’

Jean was nothing before. Jean didn’t have a “before”.

‘Rest,’ he said, for lack of anything else. ‘I’ll try to come back tonight.’

Jeremy nodded eagerly. ‘Do, please,’ he said. ‘And not just for the food. Could you stay a little while and talk to me?’

Jean blinked. ‘Why?’

Jeremy hesitated. ‘Uh, just, you know. Companionship? I’ll go crazy down here otherwise. I mean - can you? Do you have the time?’

The freedom, he meant.

Jean didn’t know what to say. ‘Yes?’ he tried, cautious. ‘I can try to stay.’

Jeremy beamed, and it knocked Jean sideways.

‘Great,’ he said. The excitement simmered quickly into something calm but strong. It made the badly-lit room shine. ‘I guess I should hear about this place too, if we’re going to get you guys out. I was thinking about it all last night, but I don’t have nearly enough information.’

Jean blinked. He’d completely forgotten about that. Despite all of his time in solitary, escape was an abstract construct to him. He had no idea what it would mean or what he would be expected to do once he was out. It was just something to attempt. Something to pass the time.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well, I have to go.’

Maybe hearing a little about their lives on the estate would dissuade any notions of escape, and Jean could move past this strange chapter in his otherwise unremarkable life.

Jeremy nodded. ‘Sure, of course,’ he said, almost apologetic for some reason. ‘Don’t get in trouble for me.’

‘I wasn’t planning to,’ Jean replied, a little confused as to why Jeremy was giving him orders.

‘Right, yeah.’

They both trailed off, both seeming fairly perplexed by each other. Jean was glad to escape the encounter and return to his normal preoccupations.

He was almost, _almost_ late for count. Kevin looked like he’d shit himself, reminding Jean that he did in fact give a fuck about him. Neil didn’t look as relieved, which either meant that he didn’t care or that he had more faith in Jean than Kevin. It was probably a bit of both.

The day’s work began badly. Jean was still stationed outside, but it was raining hard. The ground beneath them turned to slippery mud, threatening to send them tumbling. It was also cold, and painful. The rain had an acidic quality to it these days; they had to work hard to get the plants under cover, then gather as much of the rainwater as they could in plastic buckets so that it could be cleaned and redistributed later.

No one spoke; the work was too hard, the conditions too gruelling. And after a long time out in the rain, their skin started to show signs of the acidity. By the time they returned inside for dinner, Jean’s skin was raw and peeling, and he and the others were groaning softly. His whole body felt scraped and poisoned.

Although he was exhausted, Jean felt drained by the day and wanted company. Neil and Kevin, however, only hissed together about the next escape attempt during dinner, and just overhearing the conversation made Jean want to go outside into the rain again.

‘I’m going,’ Jean said, after just a few mouthfuls of potato and veg. ‘I gotta bring the food …’

He swayed unsteadily, and Neil sprang up, wary. ‘I got it,’ he said, trying to tug Jean back down into his seat. ‘I’ll bring him something.’

But Jean shook his head. Neil would only snap and be impatient with Jeremy. ‘Just - wrap something up and leave it at my bed. I’ll take it to him after I’ve showered.’

The acid made his clothes stiff; it scraped against his raw skin, making him wince and gasp at the stings. Jean wasn’t the only one hurrying up the stairs as best he could, eager to get his clothes off and step into the shower.

His skin burned worse than ever under the force of the water, cool though it was; it didn’t do anything for the stinging, but Jean hoped it was at least geting him clean. His body was coated in mud; Jean scraped it out from underneath his fingers as best he could as the water around his ankles once again turned brown.

When he’d had about as much as he could take, he dried off and changed into his sleep clothes, stored in his little wash cubby. Upon returning to the dorms, he found that Neil had stashed a little baggie of dinner under his pillow, as well as a tiny tub of white cream. When Jean opened it and gave it a sniff he was none the wiser as to the contents, but rubbing a little bit on the back of his burned hand produced a relief so strong he had to sit down and sigh.

Neil had his moments.

Jean used as little as he could, focusing on his face and hands. When he was done, there was still a good bit left; this was good news, as he would likely need it again tomorrow.

He stashed it under his pillow and then pocketed it and the little baggie of food, still holding some of its warmth, before slipping downstairs as quietly as he could. He’d put tomorrow’s overalls on over his sleep clothes, feeling bare and unprotected without them.

Jean was tired and sore and largely unhappy, but when he entered the basement and felt the warmth of the boiler loosening his muscles, it all faded away some.

Jeremy was up - again - and pacing. His face lit up when he saw Jean, but his eyes didn’t go straight to the food. Instead, they lingered on his face.

‘What happened?’ he asked, frowning with concern.

Jean had avoided looking at his face in the mirror after his shower, but he’d seen the faces of his fellow workers staring back at him, so he had a good idea of what the damage looked like. He felt himself flush with shame, and was confused by it. He looked no different to anyone else who’d been outside that day. Why should he care what Jeremy thought?

‘It rained today,’ Jean said, and Jeremy’s face softened with realisation.

‘And they still made you work outside?’ He shook his head at Jean’s shrug.

‘Here’s your food,’ Jean offered, holding out the thin plastic baggie of sad dinner. It was a pitiful offering, but Jeremy took it eagerly, as he had his breakfast.

‘Thanks,’ he said. He ate with his hands, picking up the little clumps of sticky rice and vegetables with his fingers and putting them delicately into his mouth. ‘Sit with me for a while?’ he asked. ‘Please, take the finest chair.’

He gestured to the old propane barrel in the corner while he himself sat cross legged on the ground. He had folded up his blankets into a neat square pile for sitting on, and perched there now looking perfectly at home. Jean felt awkward and stiff, leaning awkwardly against the barrel.

‘How’s your arm?’ Jean asked, clutching at the one topic of conversation that he could contribute to.

Jeremy shrugged, one-shouldered again. ‘Not so bad,’ he said. ‘I just paced a lot today. I also sat down some. Nothing stressful.’

He flashed Jean a smile, leaving him briefly speechless.

‘Good,’ he said, finally.

Jeremy chased a stray grain of rice on his finger. ‘Aside from the acid rain, how was your day?’

Jean didn’t understand the question. The acid rain _was_ his day.

‘Uh … It was ok?’ he replied, definitely not used to this. It was the kind of chatter the new bloods had. Next he’d ask him about the weather.

‘Did it rain all day?’

Jean almost cracked a smile.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘We lost a lot of the strawberries and tomatoes. They are very delicate.’

‘So do you guys grow all your own food?’ Jeremy asked. ‘You’re entirely self-sufficient.’

Jean nodded. ‘Meat on the farms, fish in the lake,’ he added. ‘Though the fish are starting to die off now, or come out weird. I heard that they can have two heads, sometimes.’

This was the kind of nothing statement, useless errant thought, that he’d normally keep to himself or risk earning a scoff from Kevin or Neil. He’d blurted it out like he’d been alone.

But Jeremy looked interested. ‘Oh, really? Because we’re surely ingesting some of that pollution. It’s in the water, and we drink from rivers a lot, when we have to. We eat the wild fish too … or what’s left of them. Most of the tinned food has been gathered up by the militias. I get that they have to feed their armies but they could leave a little for us averages Joe’s.’

Jean hadn’t comprehended half of what Jeremy had just said, but it was nice to listen to him talk. He had a mild, calm manner, and his voice was pleasantly soft. It put Jean in mind of the blankets in his bed when he was really, really tired and cold. He couldn’t think of anything more comforting than that, so maybe that was an exaggeration.

‘So I’ve been meaning to ask,’ Jeremy said, scraping the last of the rice out of the baggie. ‘How come you didn’t put in for a move to France back in the early days?’

Jean shifted. He did know what Jeremy was talking about this time.

‘I’ve been in here … longer,’ he said. It wasn’t something he wanted to explain.

‘Oh, really?’ Jeremy frowned. ‘I heard this place was a bit shady even before the war. Were you not registered under a social security number?’

Jean didn’t know how to make him stop. He folded his arms and looked at the ground, shoulders tight. He was afraid it would lead to more poking, but Jeremy took the hint.

‘What about your friends,’ he said, voice even softer now. Jean couldn’t help but respond to it. ‘Tell me about them.’

Glad to have another topic to latch on to, Jean let himself talk.

‘It was just Kevin and I for ages,’ he said. ‘Then Neil arrived, just before the war. Then … everyone else. We moved down here from the estate then, but we spent years crawling around in the basements anyways.’

There was plenty that he was not saying; he could sense Jeremy’s curiosity. He’d said it as more of a test than anything else. Jeremy passed.

‘You seem like a pretty tight group,’ he said. ‘I’ve got that with Laila and Alvarez - the two who were with me yesterday. Gotta have people who have your back these days, you know?’

Jean did.

‘We’ve been working up and down the east coast most recently.’ Jeremy seemed to have so many words bottled up inside him. Jean was used to not talking all day, but this was the same kind of quiet mania that Katelyn had been displaying. Jeremy was even less accustomed to solitude, apparently. ‘Ever since the west went quiet and dark at the Arizona border. The interior is still duking it out for the middle states but we thought we had a real shot in South Carolina.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘You know, no one actually knows what the war is about anymore? Not any of us on the ground, I mean. I don’t even know who’s giving the orders anymore. They just get sent from on high and trickle down to us lowly smugglers, and we try to make do with whatever they don’t take from us.’

He gave another little one-shouldered shrug, then smiled ruefully at Jean. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Didn’t mean to whine. I’ve been having this conversation in my head all day.’

Jean didn’t mind.

‘You know, this is much better than what I’ve been eating recently,’ Jeremy went on, holding up the almost sparkling clean bag. ‘That’s probably not much of a consolation to you. But if we do get you guys out, just prepare yourself for shitty food and don’t go giving me sad eyes, ok?’

This made Jean sit up a little straighter. He hadn’t really thought they’d been serious about that.

Jeremy caught the change. ‘What? I’ve been thinking about it, you know. This might be a stupid question, but I gotta ask - have you definitely tried the smuggler tunnels?’

Jean suppressed a sigh. ‘Yes,’ he said, with a little nod. ‘That was Neil’s first idea. But it narrows a bit further down and I … don’t fit.’

A point of shame. He couldn’t look at that manhole without remembering that Kevin and Neil were only still here because of him. If it weren’t for him, they’d probably be gone.

‘Well, that’s not your fault,’ Jeremy said, in a reasonable tone. ‘You can’t help how you’re built.’ He was nodding. ‘I figured it was something like that. You must be pretty good in a fight.’

That was about all he was good for. Jean Moreau, #3, no middle name, good in a fight.

‘That and triage,’ Jeremy added.

Jean didn’t know the word, and frowned.

‘My arm,’ Jeremy explained. ‘You knew what was wrong straight away, and you fixed me. All the doctors and medics out there are wrapped up in the battlefields. There’s no one to patch up smugglers who get caught between fences. We could really use someone with instincts like yours. Would you consider joining up when we get you out?’

This was a lot to process for Jean. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, uncertainly. ‘I’ve never thought about it.’

‘Joining up?’

‘Going outside.’

Jeremy blinked. ‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know anything about it.’

‘The war?’

‘Outside.’

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither knowing what to say.

‘Would you like me to tell you?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean hesitated, then unfolded his arms slowly.

‘Yes.’

 

*

 

Jean had spent too long in the shower and being delicate with his skin, and had to bid Jeremy a quick farewell after thatand hurry back to bed or risk having to use the lock picks again. There was always a chance he’d be overhead and spotted in the 30 seconds it would take him to get back inside the dorms. Not to mention he’d have Neil and Kevin on his ass again.

The next morning brought peeling skin that probably didn’t feel as bad as everyone else’s. The only relief was that it had stopped raining. But at breakfast Katelyn looked so miserable that Jean rushed her upstairs again before they’d finished eating and let her cover her face and neck and hands in wonderful, soothing cream. Katelyn let Jean do the tips of her ears and the back of her neck while she leaned on him, tiredly. Jean wondered if the pain had kept her awake all night.

‘Don’t tell anyone else,’ he said, quietly, hiding the cream again. ‘It might rain again.’

Katelyn shuddered. ‘I’d never been out in it for more than half an hour before,’ she said. ‘I thought all my skin would come off.’

Her eyes were red and swollen, just like Jean’s. Jean knew that it would be hard to watch her adjust to a life that he was already resigned to. She reminded him how bad it could be.

Throughout the day, Jean found his thoughts distracted as never before. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Jeremy he never thought about the outside. It would break Neil’s heart if he knew, but Jean was afraid that one day they might actually succeed in getting out. Each toss into solitary was a tiny relief. A stay of execution. Even if he did think another 50 day stay might kill him, or kill something inside him that was important enough that it wouldn’t matter if he was alive or dead.

But now the escape plans were changing, factoring in the assistance of Jeremy and his smuggler friends. Neil and Kevin had never been busier. They spent the next two days sloping off together without Jean; Jean never said a word about it, and they didn’t make excuses. They claimed it was because Jean was spending so much time downstairs with Jeremy, and they couldn’t keep waiting for him.

Jean let them keep telling him that, and he kept on pretending he cared that they were going off without them. Sometimes they didn’t come back until after Jean and everyone else was in bed. Jean tried not to think about what they’d been up to, without him.

For the rest of the week, every morning and every evening, Jean stole as much food as he could and hurried down the stairs to Jeremy. They had less time in the morning, but Jean started getting up earlier, and not even sitting down to breakfast. They would eat together and Jeremy would tell him about trains and planes and automobiles. Jean remembered them from very early childhood, but most things from his childhood were veiled in something gauzy and unreal, and sometimes he wasn’t quite sure what was real and what were dreams and fantastical wishes that he’d made up for lack of anything else to think about.

Although, there was something about the way Jeremy spoke about the outside that put Jean in mind of fairytales and unreality. Even though according to Jeremy the world outside was broken and ravaged and full of the worst of humanity, Jeremy sounded like he loved it anyway. Or maybe it was something that he used to love, yet he remembered it so fondly that he couldn’t but talk about it like the love was still there.

‘Tell me again about the animals,’ Jean said, on the third day. He loved the parts about the animals. They were munching their breakfast burritos, and there were apples for afterwards. Jean had plucked them from the servers before they’d even reached the tables. Let the guards think he was on hunger strike.

‘They were everywhere,’ Jeremy said, smiling. ‘So many kinds. What ones do you remember?’

Jean, again, wasn’t too sure what he remembered and what he’d made up.

‘The cows,’ he said. ‘And the sheep.’

Jeremy’s smile widened. ‘Were there lots of cows and sheep where you grew up?’

Jean’s mouth twisted ruefully. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But they’re the ones I know for sure are real.’

Jeremy had been making some adjustments to his temporary home, including marking out a blanket that was officially Jean’s to sit on when he came down. He’d also begged a change of clothes from Jean, and had figured out a way to sleep just out of range of the light sensors so that they didn’t turn on when he stirred in his sleep. It was rather ingenious. But Jeremy got restless during the day; he admitted to Jean that he went exploring, and Jean couldn’t blame him for that. It went without saying that if Jeremy got caught, Jean, Kevin, and Neil would renounce him thrice in a heartbeat.

That night after their dinner, Jean was feeling similarly restless, and challenged Jeremy to a race.

‘Won’t they hear us?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean shrugged. ‘Not all the way down here. The machines make too much noise.’

Jeremy looked outraged. ‘Are you kidding? I’ve been tiptoeing around down here for days!’

Jean just shrugged. ‘Well you know now. So, you want to go for a run?’

Jeremy was a quick on his feet, but his bound arm threw off his balance a little, making him more careful. Jean easily kept pace with him, his tiredness from the day forgotten.

Emboldened by their loud, echoing footsteps, Jeremy let out a little whoop, and gave Jean a slight shove with his free arm. That startled a laugh out of Jean, and he swiped back at him. The laughter felt like something that had been shaken loose inside him. It rattled around as he ran.

When they got to the end of the tunnel, Jean tapped Jeremy’s shoulder and led him off to the right, thinking quickly. Three rooms over there was a rattling engine room that could be heard from miles away, probably. Jeremy looked confused when they entered it, wondering what Jean was trying to show him.

‘What is it?’ He had to shout over the noise.

Jean shrugged. ‘No one can hear you down here,’ he shouted back. ‘Kevin and I used to come down here to argue.’

Jeremy burst out laughing, and then laughed harder with delight when he realised he didn’t have to be quiet. Jean found himself smiling quite uncontrollably.

They shouted back and forth at each other for a little while longer, just for the pure pleasure of doing it. Jean, not used to talking much, let alone shouting, was hoarse when they left. Jeremy seemed rejuvenated.

‘You’ve got a drop tomorrow night right?’ he asked, swinging his arm. He was almost skipping. ‘Can I come?’

Jean nodded. He’d been wondering how to bring it up. Andrew and Aaron had already been by the night before last again, just to pick up the orders. They spent their whole lives in those tunnels, it seemed like. Jean had been there to meet them by himself; it had been a brief meeting, but Aaron had asked about Katelyn anyway.

‘Don’t you have to go see Neil and Kevin?’ Jeremy asked, as they returned to his little space. ‘They’ll start thinking you’ve forgotten them.’

Jean had skipped shower and dinner to come down here, and didn’t much feel like going away again, so he shook his head. ‘No, they’re - ah, busy.’

Jeremy frowned. ‘You’ve been saying that a lot. Do you not hang out with them anymore?’

Jean opened his mouth to deny this, but then paused. Did he?

‘They’re busy,’ he repeated again. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think …’

He trailed off, and Jeremy looked at him quizzically. Faced with Jeremy’s calm face and cool logic, Jean felt like a fool for evening mentioning it.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing. Tell me about sports.’

Jean found himself wondering why he and Kevin had never played games. Their whole childhood had been spent prowling the castle with Riko when they weren’t doing chores, getting into whatever trouble he wanted to that day. Jean usually took the brunt of the punishment when they got caught; Riko was the favourite child, and Kevin had a quick mouth. But it took Jean forever to learn English, and when faced with authority he clammed up worse than usual, so there was no escape. Riko would laugh and Kevin would look on in anguish as Jean took his slaps and beatings as best he could. Much as it had been him and Kevin against the world, in those moments Jean had felt like a slower, more stupid, an outsider who would never figure it out.

That wasn’t how it felt with Kevin and Neil now. Definitely not. Neil was his friend. They wouldn’t turn their backs on him.

‘I used to play hockey as a kid,’ Jeremy said. He was perched on his bed; he’d developed a knack for braiding the threads of the old rug one-handed. Jean watched him do it now, fascinated by the way his fingers moved. ‘Ice hockey, you know?’

Jean shook his head. Jeremy sometimes forgot, but he didn’t mind.

‘Right - sorry. It’s like, where you like, slide around on ice, but you have these blades attached to your shoes so you can move better.’

‘Is this another stickball game?’ Jean asked seriously.

Jeremy beamed at him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Stick, ball, net.’

Jean nodded. He was becoming familiar with these.

‘Blades on your shoes,’ he echoed. He couldn’t picture it.

‘I know. It sounds kinda crazy.’

Most of what Jeremy told him sounded crazy. Unbelievable. It just didn’t correspond to anything in Jean’s world. These last few nights he’d gone to bed with his head spinning, full of notions of moving pictures on screens and talking to people on the other side of the world, and animals three times his size.

Jeremy wove the stories in a way that held Jean transfixed. Sometimes he stopped and asked if he was boring Jean. ‘You haven’t moved or blinked in a while,’ he’d say, sounding a little nervous. Jean couldn’t help his intensity; he didn’t want to miss a thing. Jeremy’s voice painted pictures in the air for him. Jean was addicted.

He and Katelyn talked quietly on work duty sometimes. They had both been moved to the kitchens, which was loud and bustling and allowed Jean more time to talk and also steal food. Katelyn confirmed some of the wilder things Jeremy had told him; it wasn’t that Jean didn’t believe him, but sometimes he thought that he got so wrapped up in Jeremy’s voice that his brain embellished things.

‘Jeremy telling you stories?’ Katelyn asked with a grin. There was flour on her face and in her hair. She was excited about the drop tonight, too. Anything for a change of pace.

Jean nodded, kneading dough. It was relaxing enough, as work duty came. Jeremy had been telling him about cakes. Jean had never tasted a cake, but he’d seen them when he’d lived above. He’d never been interested in stealing food before now, but now he was considering.

‘Katelyn,’ Jean asked quietly. ‘What’s nice in here?’

‘What do you mean?’

Jean shrugged. ‘Like … tasty. What tastes good, like really good?’

Katelyn understood Jean more than he gave her credit for, and she didn’t ask any further questions. Instead, she cast her eyes around the kitchen with real thought.

‘Something chocolatey,’ she said. ‘That’d be my best bet. He’s missing sugar.’ Jean didn’t ask how she knew what he was really talking about.

Things that went missing from the kitchen were unavoidable, which is why the shifts were heavily rotated. Everyone usually took their shot and got away with it, but Jean had never been very excited by food so he’d never bothered. Jean spent the day with his eyes peeled, and finally spotted a row of tiny jars at the back of the baking cabinet when he went to get more flour. He couldn’t read the labels, but one had a smear of something on the outside that he recognised from his rare turn on the pastry tables (his hands were not delicate enough for the work).

Dinner was the same old boring fare, made worse by the fact that Jean had helped to prepare it, and then scour the pots afterwards. It meant he was late getting down to Jeremy, and he was covered in stains, but he was too absurdly excited to wait.

‘It’s so ungrateful of me to be turning my nose up at this,’ Jeremy said with a rueful smile, taking his stolen portion of potatoes and soggy vegetables from Jean. ‘My dad used to always say that hunger is the best sauce.’

Jean could attest to that being true. He may not care much for food, but he and Kevin had eaten grass and leaves before, when Riko had decided he didn’t want to let them eat. It had made them weak and sick, and Riko’s uncle had eventually stepped in and had them fed. The green stains around Kevin’s gasping, sick mouth were still on heavy rotation in Jean’s nightmares.

He thought about that for a moment, realising with a flicker of surprise he hadn’t had a nightmare all week. He must be so tired, with all this extra running around. His body was tired, certainly. But Jean felt good. Weirdly good.

‘It’s ok,’ he said, finally. ‘You get used to it after a while. Or … I guess you just stop wanting it.’

‘Is that what happened with you?’

Jean looked up at him. ‘You know … I don’t think I was ever very interested in food. I can’t remember.’

Jeremy’s brows knitted together for a brief second before his face relaxed into his usual calm demeanour. ‘Well, I wouldn’t survive half as well as you.’

Jean wasn’t sure how he’d come to that conclusion, and clearly his expression betrayed his thoughts because Jeremy laughed at him.

‘I’m just saying,’ he said. ‘I guess I thought I was pretty tough before.’

Jean actually considered Jeremy to be something of a genius. He knew so much, and he had a way of explaining it to Jean that seemed to plant the concepts in his head like he’d grown them himself. Sometimes Jean felt like his head would burst with all of these new thoughts and ideas, but Jeremy was so clever at talking that he couldn’t help but ask more.

‘I have a question,’ Jeremy asked. ‘Why do you, Kevin, and Neil have number tattoos?’

Jean paused, considering.

‘I noticed that Katelyn didn’t have one,’ added Jeremy.

‘She does,’ Jean said. ‘We all do. Hers is on her arm, like the rest of them.’

Jeremy cocked his head, that careful expression back in place. Jean felt at ease, despite the subject. He could stop now, and Jeremy would let it go.

‘They stopped doing it after Neil, I think,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why. Kevin says it’s because Neil struggled so much they almost took his eye out. He had to be sedated, and he had a reaction that left him out of it for days. So, it’s the arm now.’

They had laughed at him, because they could. Neil had been new, a dangerous and unknown commodity. They hadn’t known what to do with him, and had rushed along with Riko’s cruelty because for once it wasn’t them on the receiving end of it. That had felt good.

Jeremy was silent for a few moments. He rustled his dinner bag thoughtfully between his fingers, and Jean left him to it. He was just about to bring up the jar when Jeremy spoke again.

‘How old were you when they did that to you?’ he asked. There was something off about his voice.

Jean had to think about it. A lot of that time in his life was a blur. ‘I’m not too sure,’ he said. ‘I was small … 8, maybe? 9?’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’

Jeremy ran a hand over his mouth. Jean thought he was just thinking again, but when he took it away his expression looked rather twisted.

‘Jean, how long have you been here?’ he asked.

Jean looked at him blankly. ‘All my life,’ he said. ‘Or as good as. I was five, I think, when I …’

He trailed off, not sure how he wanted to finish that out loud. Jean’s beginnings in his head were always vague and lightly sketched, and he didn’t ever think too hard about them. It was easier than wondering where he’d come from and why he’d been brought here. There were no answers to be had.

‘That’s …’ Jeremy looked more affected than Jean liked.

‘Don’t ask me,’ Jean said, quietly. ‘I don’t know any more than you.’

Jeremy hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. It was the first time that Jean had brushed him off a subject where he seemed genuinely regretful.

The mood was sufficiently lowered, but Jean had so been looking forward to seeing Jeremy’s face. Rather than sneak the jar back upstairs, he took it carefully out of his pocket. He realised immediately that he’d forgotten a spoon, and considered calling the whole thing off, but Jeremy missed nothing.

‘What’s that?’ he asked. Jean almost smiled.

‘You’re a very bad influence on me,’ he murmured, kneeling down so Jeremy could take it from him. ‘I’m on kitchen duty this week, and …’

Jeremy actually gasped. He sat up straight like something had bitten him, and looked up at Jean, eyes wide.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked.

Jean didn’t know, and didn’t want to make any promises. He just held his hand out for Jeremy to take it.

‘For me?’ he asked. ‘Seriously? You didn’t get into trouble for this, did you?’

Jean shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, quietly, enjoying the look on Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy twisted open the little gold cap carefully, and actually moaned when he smelled what was inside. Jean blushed to the tips of his ears.

‘I am not worthy of this,’ Jeremy said, voice low. He looked up at Jean. ‘Jean …’

Jean sat back on his heels and shrugged, a little embarrassed. ‘It’s nothing.’

Jeremy tilted his head, seeking Jean’s gaze. ‘Have you ever tried some?’

Jean gave a little wave of his hand. ‘Oh, no. I don’t think so. What's it called again?’

Jeremy glanced at the label written in the curling letters that Jean wished he understood. He recognised them from seeing them on the board every morning all his life, but he didn’t know what they meant put into different orders.

‘It’s chocolate,’ Jeremy said. He held out the jar. ‘Here.’

But Jean shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. He couldn’t quite smell it from here. ‘It’s for you.’

Jeremy set the jar on his knee, then reached out and took his hand. ‘There’s more than enough to share,’ he said, softly. ‘Come on.’

He gave a little tug, and Jean surprised himself by going willingly.

They sat together side by side, the jar open between them. Jean insisted that Jeremy go first, and was deeply rewarded by this. Jeremy saw absolutely nothing wrong with dipping his finger right into the jar and then sticking it into his mouth and licking the chocolate off. Jean’s jaw hit the ground and he struggled to get it back up again.

‘Is it nice?’ he asked, throat dry.

Jeremy’s eyes were still closed.

‘You have to try it,’ he said softly, passing Jean the jar. ‘It’s very important to me that you try it.’

Only the borderline ecstatic look on Jeremy’s face could have convinced Jean to stick his finger into that jar and then into his mouth. Jeremy’s eyes and smile widened as Jean’s registered the taste of the chocolate. It spread across his tongue, lighting up tastebuds that had been dormant forever.

‘Oh,’ he said.

It didn’t take long for indulgence to set in. Jean stuck to just the rim of the jar, taking only the smallest scrapes of chocolate, and making sure his finger was entirely clean before going back for more. It wasn’t that he had more restraint than Jeremy; he just had less exuberance.

‘You know, life was pretty good for me before the war,’ Jeremy, thoughtfully. He had been livened up considerably by the treat. ‘I was middle-class, I had a job and friends and enough money after I paid my bills to order takeout every other weekend.’

Jean nodded, not fully understanding, but paying close attention.

‘The thing is, though,’ Jeremy went on, lips pursing around his finger thoughtfully. ‘The thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated anything more than I do right now. Like, this entire moment.’

Jean wondered if he was included in that moment.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ he mumbled.

Jeremy put his free hand on Jean’s arm. Jean twitched a little.

‘You have been far kinder to me than I deserve,’ he said, softly.

Jean shrugged him off. ‘It’s only some chocolate.’

‘I didn’t mean - ‘ Jeremy sighed, sensing Jean wasn’t going to take the compliment. ‘I’ve _dreamed_ about this, Jean.’

Jean seized the diversion. ‘You’ve dreamed about chocolate?’

Jeremy grinned at him. ‘Yeah, haven’t you ever had dreams about something you really wanted?’

‘I have bad dreams,’ Jean replied, unthinkingly.

That effectively buttoned up the conversation. Jeremy got that little look on his face that he got whenever Jean said something he found odd. Jean looked away. ‘Sorry,’ he added, as usual.

He jumped for real when Jeremy touched his face and turned it back towards him.

‘Don’t apologise for that,’ he said, softly. His eyes were so brown, Jean thought. He couldn’t match them to anything else, except maybe the chocolate.

Jeremy’s fingertips were soft, but they quickly drifted down and away.

‘Jean,’ he said, softly. ‘How did you come to be here?’

Jean sighed. He’d been expecting Jeremy to ask at some point - they’d gotten close to it before. Jean had been telling Jeremy about the tunnels and the estate, and Jeremy had seemed very interested in how Jean knew so much. He didn’t want to answer, but the chocolate seemed to be loosening his tongue.

‘You know, I’m not really sure,’ he said, trying to turn it into a conversation instead of a confession. ‘Young enough that I couldn’t speak any English, or write my own name worth a damn.’

‘What was it like then?’

Jean shrugged. ‘It was just me and Kevin and … our other brother, I suppose.’

‘Where’s he?’

Jean rolled his head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘He’s upstairs.’

Jeremy blinked in surprise. ‘He’s - oh.’

Jean nodded. ‘We used to be up there too. Riko would go to classes, learning to take over his family’s business - whatever that is - and Kevin and I would run around doing servant work until Riko decided he wanted us again.’

Jeremy was frowning. ‘But why? I mean, where were your parents? Did they work here too?’

 _Parents_.

Jean bit his lip briefly, considering. ‘I don’t know where they are,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember … how I got here. But I know they were never here.’

There was a brief silence. ‘And they just … made you work? Did you go to school?’

‘No. That’s why I can’t read.’

Jeremy made a little noise in his throat. ‘You can’t _read_?’

Jean shifted. ‘Kevin can’t either,’ he said, defensively. ‘Although, I think Neil might be trying to teach him. They’re sneaking away all the time … Sometimes they don’t come back until after lights out.’

Jeremy smirked. ‘Sounds like someone else I know.’

Jean allowed himself a little smile at that. ‘Well, I have a good excuse, at least.’

Jeremy shook his head, amused. ‘Hey, do you ever think they might be … you know?’

Jean frowned at him. ‘What?’

Jeremy made a face. ‘Come on, Jean. They’re like - ‘ He held up his hand, his index and middle finger crossed. ‘They’re probably just having some alone time.’

Jean blinked. ‘Some _what_?’

Jeremy snorted. ‘Alright fine, maybe I’m way off. But just from the way you talk about them, they sound like they’re a couple. A pair. You know - together.’

It finally dawned on Jean. This revelation passed over him like a horrible, cold sheet of water.

‘Oh,’ he said, quietly.

Jeremy watched him curiously. ‘Are you ok?’

Jean didn’t know. He shifted, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms, a little frown on his face as he thought it over.

Kevin and Neil. In his head, it was he and Kevin who were the pair. Neil was the third. Even back when it had been Jean, Kevin, and Riko, they had been the two united against the third. Neil had been a positive replacement, and Jean had never resented that … He frowned again, wondering why his stomach felt so tight.

‘Lotta frowning over there,’ Jeremy commented. His voice didn’t sound as light as his words.

‘We should be heading up soon,’ Jean said, distracted.

‘Right, right,’ echoed Jeremy. ‘The drop. I’d almost forgotten.’

With difficulty, he rolled to his feet one-armed. ‘I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Probably got chocolate all over my face.’

He disappeared off down the hallway and through the door. Jean took a moment to raise his head and gaze after him, realising belatedly that Jeremy had sounded uncomfortable.

After capping the jar and placing it carefully on Jeremy’s bed where he would see it, Jean got up and cooled his heels in the hallway until Jeremy came back. His hair was wet and his hand and face were pink with the cold of the water. Jean had been smuggling him slivers of soap and caps of mouthwash, but from the look on his face he was having a hard time with not being clean.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, trying to find his way back on to even footing. ‘I put in a special order for you. Should be in tonight.’

Jeremy looked at him with interest. ‘Does it involve soap?’

Jean shrugged. ‘It might.’

Jeremy gave a little sigh. ‘Oh, to be clean again.’

Jean snorted as they made their way down the other end of the hallway. ‘I know. After a few weeks in solitary, I feel like my skin is crawling. And they always make me go that first day without washing. Just to remind me.’

‘You been in solitary often?’

‘You have no idea.’

Jeremy laughed. ‘How come Neil and Kevin are the masterminds but you’re the one that gets caught?’

‘Someone has to bring up the rear.’

Jeremy made a little noise that sounded vaguely disapproving, and was quiet for a little bit. Jean was used to being quiet, so he let him be.

Jeremy regained his usual animation when they made it to the drop chamber. Jean couldn’t imagine why he was so excited to see Kevin and Neil, but he seemed thrilled. Neil regarded him with some bemusement, and even Kevin looked interested. Jean felt a twinge of jealousy as he hesitantly supplied answers to whatever questions Jeremy was peppering him with.

‘What’s eating you?’ Katelyn asked, folding her arms.

Jean jumped. ‘Where did you come from?’

Katelyn grinned. ‘Jean, you are murder on a girl’s self-esteem.’

Jean didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Jeremy was still chattering away with Kevin, who for once in his life was not frowning. Neil was standing next to him, looking as befuddled as Jean felt.

He was saved from answering by the familiar slide of the metal carts under their feet. Everyone jumped to attention, in particularly Jean, Kevin, and Neil. There was more scraping than usual.

Jean let Kevin and Neil get the grate this time, because he was feeling very uncharitable towards them. His eyes kept darting between them, searching for clues that might indicate they were _together_. Jean wasn’t even sure what that meant, but Jeremy clearly had an idea. He hoped Jeremy was watching too. Maybe they could compare notes later.

The grate came off, and the Minyards had a brief scuffle over who climbed out first. To Jean’s surprise, Aaron won.

‘Hi,’ he said, standing up, a little breathless with the effort of fighting past Andrew. The greeting was directed exclusively at Katelyn.

‘Move,’ said Andrew, shoving him out of the way. He had a way of looking at Neil without actually looking at him that usually made everyone else in the room feel deeply ignored. Tonight, however, Kevin seemed to be included in that look. Jean felt invisible.

‘Eh, hello? Can I get some help?’

Jeremy’s face lit up. ‘Laila!’

He hurried to the grate to pull his friend up. Laila looked much better than she had the first time they’d met; her hair was wound into a clean braid and her cheeks had a healthy flush from the exercise.

Jeremy was struggling with just one arm, so Jean quickly intervened. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out his hand. Laila took it gratefully, and they pulled her out together. Once she was up, she pulled Jeremy into a fierce hug, laughing. Jeremy laughed with her, even though the hug was probably hurting him. Jean stepped back, away from everyone else’s moments.

Slowly, they got the loot unloaded. Andrew handed Jean the small bag of items he’d requested. Jean had trusted Andrew with this because he knew he wouldn’t give one single damn about the contents. Aaron probably wouldn’t either, but Andrew was less prone to casual conversation. Or any kind of conversation. He was still staring at Neil, and kind of Kevin too.

Aaron was helping Laila pass the rest of the stuff to Katelyn; Jean dropped his bag into the corner and stepped over to help, wordlessly.

It was more of the same, just an increase in quantity. Aaron had a notebook and pencil for Katelyn, who took it with a gasp of delight. Kevin frowned; it was a big item to hide. Jean threw him a look that told him to shut up before he said exactly what Jean knew he wanted to say. Jeremy looked between them, amused.

‘Nicky promises he’ll come next time,’ Neil was saying to Aaron, who was the only one who seemed to care even a little.

‘It’s fine,’ Andrew replied, sounding bored but still staring hard at Neil. ‘Nicky doesn’t like seeing us. He’s jealous that we get to see his fiancee on a regular basis.’

‘Can’t blame him,’ Aaron muttered. ‘And it’s not just that. He feels guilty for not leaving with us.’

‘Why not?’ Katelyn asked, startled.

Jean glanced at her. ‘Same reason you won’t,’ he said. ‘If one disappears, the rest will suffer.’

Katelyn looked like she hadn’t thought of that, but it was true. Loyalties may not be widespread, but everyone had a friend in here. The anti-escape faction kept everyone afraid; there was no way they could all escape through the tunnels in one night. It just couldn’t be done.

Still, Jean thought, as he pocketed tampons and erasers and dental floss. They did outnumber the guards. The guns kept everyone afraid, but there had to be a way to mobilise everyone. That’s what Neil and Kevin kept talking about. Strength in numbers, blah blah blah. Jean knew they’d never convince the anti-escapers, so it was a moot point.

Jeremy and Laila, however, looked interested. They’d withdrawn to a corner to talk quietly together, leaving Jean and the others to stuff their pockets and every other nook and cranny with everything they could carry.

‘What are you going to do with that?’ Katelyn asked. She hadn’t missed the bag that Jean had dropped into the shadowy corner.

‘That’s not coming with us,’ Jean explained, as quietly as he could. He needn’t have bothered. Neil and Andrew were talking quietly together, with Kevin watching closely. To Jean’s surprise, Andrew reached out and put a hand on Neil’s neck. He was staring at him intensely, and Neil was staring back. Jean’s eyes moved to Kevin, and winced. His brother looked physically torn, almost anguished. It was just for a moment until Andrew dropped his hand, but it made Jean’s heart soften towards the pair of them. Kevin caught him looking, and a flash of guilt passed inexplicably across his face.

‘Any insights?’

This was Neil, looking rather crossly towards Jeremy and Laila, who were rejoining the group. Jean suspected he was skeptical of their ability to come up with a plan that he either hadn’t thought of or hadn’t tried.

Jeremy and Laila looked at each other. ‘I think so,’ she said, in response to Jeremy’s smile.

Jean listened incredulously as they proposed something so simple it was almost brilliant.

‘Widening the tunnels?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Ok, come on. Tell me what’s wrong with it.’

Neil had plenty to say, but Laila and Jeremy shot down each objection. Yes, they could move the dirt using the carts. Yes, they could do it in under two weeks. No, it wouldn’t be too noisy. Yes, they would be able to get everyone out at the same time.

‘You can’t possibly guarantee that,’ Kevin argued. ‘The anti-escape faction will never - ‘

‘We can get everyone who _wants_ to escape out in one night,’ Jeremy said, firmly. ‘Kevin, this only works if everyone is on board. So you have until we’re done to get as many people ready to go as you can.’

‘But how will we get them all out in one go without anyone hearing?’ Kevin demanded. ‘We’ll need to sneak them all out in the middle of the night, get them all the way down here, and avoid the guards. How are we supposed to do that?’

Laila shrugged. ‘That’s your problem.’

Kevin opened his mouth to fire back, but Jeremy interceded.

‘Kevin, in your wildest dreams how would it have worked?’ he asked, quietly. ‘If nothing was off limits, how do you think you would get everyone out of here without the guards noticing, at the same time?’

Kevin’s mouth remained open; picture, but no sound. Jean had to work to keep the smug look off his face.

‘We’ll do what we can,’ Jeremy went on, softly, to mitigate his stern words and the harsh reality they had painted. ‘We’ll do everything we can to get them out. But you’ll have to do your part too.’

‘They will,’ Jean said quickly, before another argument could break out. ‘We will. Kevin, we’ll talk, ok?’

Jeremy and Laila took a few minutes to say their goodbyes. Andrew was in between Kevin and Neil, getting hissed at by both of them and reacting to none of it. The twins had been spending too much time on them, and were passing duties off to Jeremy’s smuggling group so they could get some rest. Neither of them looked very happy about this; Jean wondered how long it would last.

‘What do you think about widening the tunnels?’ Katelyn asked Aaron, who blinked like she’d just socked him between the eyes.

‘It’s uh,’ he stammered. ‘Probably the best idea they’ve had so far?’

‘Brilliant, Aaron,’ Andrew said. He had only an icy stare for Katelyn.

’Hey Jean, when are you gonna free my boy from this sling?’ Laila asked him. She jerked her chin as she spoke and met his eyes with a steely gaze. Jean, surprised at being addressed directly, felt like he was being challenged.

‘Tonight,’ Jean said. He’d planned on surprising Jeremy with this information, but Laila had startled it out of him.

‘Really?’ Jeremy looked thrilled. ‘So can I help with the - ‘

‘No,’ Laila and Jean said together, then exchanged uncertain looks. Jeremy smirked between them.

‘No need to shout,’ he said, lightly. ‘It’d just be nice to be of some help.’

‘You can be,’ Kevin said, quickly.

Jean gave him a flat look. ‘Excuse me?’

Kevin just waved a hand at him, dismissively. ‘We’ll talk,’ Neil said, hurriedly, sensing the fight.

The whole meeting had been a series of near-misses, but only now did Jean feel like snapping at Kevin.

And that was the end of it. Laila wrapped Jeremy in a tight hug that he returned as best he could. Then he retreated back to Jeremy, trying to look like he didn’t wish he was going too.

Katelyn had an odd expression on her face as she watched Aaron climb back down below. Neil had his usual look of pure consternation and distress as Andrew followed suit. Jean wondered sourly if there was anyone happy to be staying behind. Then he realised how stupid that made him, and resolved not to make a joke of it to Jeremy, as he’d been planning to do.

‘Think that went ok?’ Jeremy asked, glancing up at him. ‘Laila is going to organise digging shifts. They’ll need an escort down here to open the grate and give them water and stuff. It’ll mean more work for you guys …’

Jean glanced over at Kevin and Neil and figured there would be no shortage of volunteers for that duty.

‘It went fine,’ he assured him, eyes still on the others. ‘But they’ll make you work for it.’

Jeremy snorted. When Jean looked back at him, his eyes were alive with humour.

‘Work for it,’ he repeated, amused. ‘Isn’t that what we’re doing already.’

’ _You’re_ not doing anything,’ Jean corrected. ‘Neil’s plotting something.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I know his plotting face. It usually ends up with me in solitary.’

‘Does that mean I’m gonna get in trouble?’

Jean smiled to himself. ‘Not if I can help it,’ he murmured, glancing away.

He walked Jeremy back to the boiler room. There was no reason for this, but Jean did not particularly want to go back upstairs with Neil and Kevin. For one thing, Kevin was incapable of whispering like a normal person, and they were both so het up that their odds of getting caught increased horrifically.

Jean presented Jeremy with the little bag of survival items, which included teeth and face cleaning supplies, and a razor. Razors were heavily monitored, and Jean hadn't wanted to risk stealing one. There was also a very tightly wrapped change of clothes and underwear. Jean was impressed at the effort Andrew had put into the request.

'Such service,' Jeremy murmured, taking the bag with a smile. 'I'm sorry you had to go to any trouble.'

Jean, awkward as ever, changed the subject quickly. ‘Want me to take your sling off now?’ he asked.

Jeremy looked thrilled. ‘Are you sure?’

Jean nodded. ‘You only need it for a few days,’ he said, fingering a curling corner of the sling absentmindedly. ‘Technically you shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting for a few months. But I know I can’t stop you once you leave here. So if I take it off, do you promise not to use your arm unless you absolutely have to?’

‘Jean, as long as I can use both hands to go to the bathroom again I promise to let it lie like a dead thing until you say otherwise,’ Jeremy promised, as Jean carefully unwound the sling. Jean felt the joint carefully, then got Jeremy to do a few test exercises to check everything was working the way it should be. He still had a little pain, but refused the painkillers, as he had every day since the first.

‘There,’ Jean said finally, letting him go. ‘You’re all set.’

It was a reminder that Jeremy would not be here much longer. As soon as that tunnel was done he’d be gone. According to Jeremy, they’d all be gone. Whether Jean couldn’t or wouldn’t think that far ahead was up for debate, but he wasn’t about to mention it to anyone who might become concerned.

So he just nodded and tried for a smile, and then left Jeremy alone for the night. He woke up throughout the night, checking each time that Kevin and Neil were still in their beds beside him, his heart beating frantically as his brain tried to convince him that they were already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while

Jeremy was a very good patient. He allowed Jean to poke and prod at his arm, and nodded along to all the exercises Jean told him to.

‘You’re the boss,’ he said, shrugging one-shouldered when Jean had finished.

‘That’s right,’ Jean said, a little amused.

‘I presume you know what you’re talking about.’

‘You presume correctly,’ Jean replied, winding the sling up into a neat roll. He would put it back into Neil’s secret wall space and hope he never had to use it again.

Neil had made it pretty clear to Jean last night - and this morning - that they needed to have a conversation about Jeremy. Jean wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but going along with whatever craziness Neil and Kevin were cooking up was actually less hassle then letting it happen without his involvement. It increased potential for headaches, but went a long way towards reducing the amount of unpleasant surprises in his future.

As ever with their morning meetings, Jean had to run back upstairs to make the count. He almost stumbled into a guard on his way out of the stairwell. The guard didn’t notice him but Jean mentally kicked himself. He had his morning routine timed down to the second now, but he was getting complacent. If he got caught …

Well, now more than ever, solitary wasn’t an option for him.

Jean was still on kitchen duty, but Jeremy had told him not to bring him anything else. ‘It’s too risky,’ he said. ‘You’re sneaking around all the time now.’

Jean wasn’t sure if he was nervous or comforted by the fact that Jeremy was clearly thinking along the same lines as Jean was. Suddenly escape was truly on the horizon. Much as Jean couldn’t picture it - and honestly didn’t want to -it was getting harder and harder to ignore it.

‘Besides,’ Jeremy said, with a smile. ‘We’ve still got some chocolate left.’

They had a little more than that. Laila had given Jeremy a small bag of dried food that would put a bit more meat on his bones, and take the pressure off Jean. Naturally, Jeremy was insisting on sharing it with Jean. That night, he introduced Jean to the wonders of dried jerky.

‘This is terrible,’ Jean commented, happily chewing his share. He’d insisted on a much smaller piece - they’d almost fought about it - because he could never manage to sneak a full meal for Jeremy. Sometimes the guards would look at him sideways and he’d lose his nerve, and the longer it took him to gather what he needed the harder it would be to sneak away unnoticed. The guards ate when they ate, even the ones standing at the walls watching them between bites, but they did it quickly.

‘It is terrible,’ agreed Jeremy. ‘There’s usually boxes of it hanging around in stores and pantries. Unopened, lasts forever. Not sure about the nutritional content, though.’

There was also a bag of nuts and seeds that Jeremy called “trail mix”, and he was surprisingly hesitant to share those with Jean once he learned Jean had never had them.

‘Are you sure?’ he pressed. ‘Any kind of nut?’

Jean shook his head. ‘Not unless it was an ingredient in something,’ he said, but only to appease Jeremy. Jean’s diet throughout his years of life at the Moriyama estate had consisted of meat, vegetables, and fruit. The only variation came once a year, on the leader of the Moriyama’s birthday, when they were all allocated one glass of wine and a lumpy milk pudding. Jeremy would surely cry if Jean revealed this, so he chose not to.

‘It’s just, a lot of people can be allergic to nuts,’ Jeremy said, twisting the top of the bag around in his hands. ‘Like, deathly allergic. I’m pretty sure Neil doesn’t have an epipen stashed away in the walls somewhere.’

Jean didn’t know what that was, so the odds on them having it weren’t great. But he didn’t mind. Jeremy’s concern had startled him initially, but now he felt almost warm at the thought that Jeremy cared enough to bring it up.

That night he got back after lights out, as was his custom. Jeremy had been telling him about space - planets and stars and such. Jean did know about stars, and the moon; there were certain things you just picked up, being around people who might have occasion to talk casually about such things sometimes. But not being a person who asked many questions, there were a good many blanks in Jean’s knowledge that Jeremy could now fill. As usual, Jean couldn’t get enough of it. They’d sent _people_ up there? He’d seen planes sometimes, helicopters mostly, and some trucks parked at the base (though he’d never seen one move), but _rockets?_ Jeremy traced one out for him with a pebble on the ground. Jean had brought the pebble from outside specifically for this purpose.

‘When we get out, I’m going to find you an encyclopaedia,’ Jeremy stated, letting Jean pour over his diagrams. ‘A really big one with pictures. It’s the next best thing, now that the internet doesn’t work anymore. I’d like to take you to a library, but libraries are potluck these days; burned out, or the books all taken for insulation or firewood, or recommissioned as military bases.’ Jeremy sat back, pondering the concept with his usual care and consideration. ‘I guess there are other places we could find one. Schools, homes, government buildings. This whole collapse of society thing makes you damn resourceful.’

Jean looked up from the floor. ‘You know I wouldn’t be able to read it, even if you did find one.’

Jeremy had thoughts on that too. ‘Well, you can read your name, yes? And some of the words on the board in the mornings?’

Jean frowned. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, then you have the basics,’ Jeremy shrugged. ‘You know what sounds some letters make. And you can understand and speak English, which is half the battle.Although, knowing your name doesn’t really help in this situation. French letters make different sounds.’

Jean’s French was imperfect, to say the least. He made a lot of it up based on how it felt in his mouth. One of the things that had warmed him to Neil in the first instance was that he spoke some nice French. They used to talk French together, all three of them, just for the novelty of it. They hadn’t done that in a while, though.

‘I’m sure I’ll manage,’ Jean said, not really thinking about it. Reading was another abstract concept for him, one that he wouldn’t devote any energy to until it became necessary.

‘I’m sure you will, too,’ Jeremy replied, surprising Jean by how certain he sounded. Jean blinked up at him, and Jeremy smiled back.

Jean went to sleep that night dreaming of the moon, and men walking on it. He woke up to a knee in his side and Neil’s hair tickling his cheek.

‘Wake up,’ he whispered in French. Jean’s heart almost exploded out of his chest before his brain figured out what was happening.

The knee in his side was Kevin’s. They were perched on either side of his bed, staring down at him, eyes bright in the early morning light. They still had a few more hours of sleep time left, by Jean’s reckoning.

‘This had better be very good,’ Jean grumbled, as quietly as he could.

‘This is the only time we could pin you down,’ replied Kevin, sounding just as disgruntled. Kevin was many things, but a morning person had never been one of them. It must be serious if Kevin was awake for it.

‘I want to get your friend up here to talk to people,’ Neil said. His hair was messy and sticking up at the back, and his face carried the softness of sleep despite the intensity of his gaze. ‘No one’s gonna take this seriously if it’s just us three spreading the good word. They already think you and Kevin are crazy.’

 _They think you’re crazy, too_ , thought Jean, looking into Neil’s piercing blue eyes.

‘He has a name,’ he said instead.

‘Jean, will he come up?’ Kevin was giving him the same hard stare as Neil.

Jean regarded at him carefully. ‘What do you want him to do, exactly?’ He was loathe to set Jeremy loose up here, not least because he could get caught, or someone could get a case of the jitters and blab to a guard. There were plenty who wouldn’t consider themselves anti-escape, but were mindful enough of the risks associated with rebellion to rat them out if they thought it was necessary. Jean could think of five names off the top of his head that he wouldn’t want in a room with Jeremy under any circumstances.

‘He’s charismatic,’ explained Kevin, impatiently. ‘He can sell it. Talk some sense into these people. Out there has to sound better than in here.’

‘How do you know it is?’ Jean challenged.

‘ _I_ know,’ Neil snapped, as quietly as he could. Kevin’s eyes flickered briefly to Neil, and Jean knew right away that Neil had been filling Kevin’s head with all sorts of stories about how it could be, and had tapped into some previously unknown romantic side of Kevin. Or maybe it was real romance, thought Jean uneasily. Whatever it was, he was starting to think he didn’t know Kevin as well as he thought he did. Either that, or he’d been keeping it all in reserve, and Jean could hardly blame him for that.

‘Why do you care about them?’ Jean asked softly, sitting up in bed properly and fiddling with the thin blanket between his knees. ‘Why is it so important that we get them _all_ out?’

Kevin met his gaze evenly while Neil fidgeted. ‘Because it’s the right thing to do,’ he said, eventually.

Jean shook his head and shifted his gaze back to his hands. That might have sounded fine coming from someone like Jeremy, but from Kevin he just didn’t buy it. Kevin had managed to form an attachment with exactly two people in his whole life, and both of them were on this bed.

‘I can isolate the ones we don’t want around,’ Neil whispered. ‘I’ll make it as safe as I can.’

‘As safe as you can,’ Jean echoed. ‘Well, I’ll ask him.’

He’d have to ask him. He knew Jeremy would agree, so it was pointless to delay Neil further, but it did provide him with a small measure of control over the situation. Or the illusion of it, at least.

They went back to sleep after that. Kevin and Neil dropped off right away, their consciences clear, but Jean wrestled with his own. Letting Jeremy up here, into his world, would not only put him in danger but provide him with a look into how Jean truly lived. Right now, he saw only Jean at the end and beginning of his day, coming to him on his own terms. He hadn’t seem the small beds, the cramped living quarters, the way everyone went quiet when a guard walked by. He didn’t know the sameness, the smallness, the goddamn smell of the place. Jean was nothing up here but another number. There was no rank based on seniority, like the guards’ system. Jean was not afforded any more respect than the person next to him. And next to Kevin’s determination and Neil’s fierce ambition, Jean was quite powerless.

‘I have to talk to you about something tonight,’ Jean said to Jeremy, handing over breakfast. There were apples today. They were small and bruised from the rain, but they both bit into them with a hectic pleasure, juice running down their chins. A natural sugar, but sugar all the same.

Jeremy’s brow quirked at him over his apple. ‘Can you give me a hint?’

Jean shook his head. ‘Just something Kevin and Neil are cooking up.’

‘And you can’t tell me now?’

Jean wiped his mouth carefully. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m too annoyed at them right now. Can you survive until tonight?’

Jeremy nodded, amused. ‘Why did you bring it up now, though? I’m gonna be agonising over it all day.’

‘It’s a long day,’ Jean said. ‘I didn’t want to forget.’ Then he paused, and almost smiled. ‘Besides, it’ll give you something to think about.’

Jeremy blinked, and then his face split into a broad grin. ’So kind,’ he said, looking tickled. ‘Always thinking of me.’

Jean wondered what on earth else he could possible think about.

Throughout his day, while he worked the kitchens or the gardens or the halls or the laundry, labouring for unknown others who would never thank him for his work, Jean thought about Jeremy. Even when his mind was full of thoughts of the outside, his brain trying to make sense of it all, for the most part he was thinking about how Jeremy fit into it all. This was partly because Jeremy included so much of his own life experiences into his tales. When he told him about airplanes, it was about his own travels as a teenager, when he’d visited friends in Canada or taken a vacation to Cancún. He told him about school, and college; he described his education, how he’d studied electrical engineering. New words, names, and places to Jean, and Jeremy was at the centre of them all. To Jean’s amazement, Jeremy was able to tell him what made the lights turn on. Jean had had these questions in his mind all his life, but never dared to ask. By the time Neil came along, someone who wouldn’t mind explaining it to him, Jean had lost any desire to speak up and ask a question.

Even now, he would never prompt Jeremy for more, though he greatly desired it. He found it very hard to ask for things that he wanted. Even acknowledging that want was proving difficult; he had grown up having every want denied and dismissed. To save his heart the trouble of disappointment, Jean had stopped wanting anything at all.

So, he never asked anything from Jeremy, unless he was trying to distract him. But the more he received from Jeremy’s boundless generosity, the harder it was to stop his heart aching for more.

And he didn’t just want Jeremy for his stories, and his knowledge of what was out there. Jeremy represented something dizzyingly dangerous, both in reality and in how much Jean was willing to risk to get it. He couldn’t name it yet, but something inside him had been stirred awake, and had not found rest since the first time Jeremy had smiled at him and told him about the world.

Work detail could change at any time. There were no weeks, no routines. It was something people found hardest when they first arrived. There were no groups, either, no set work crews. Jean was set to working the laundries today, a job he liked more than the others, and certainly more than Neil, who was really too short for the work. Jean liked the heat of the laundries; it was oppressive at times, especially after a hard day’s work, but Jean was too often a cold creature, who found it hard to stay warm. The halls they lived in were built of cold stone that didn’t hold the heat; even in the height of summer, he felt a chill. So he much preferred to sweat beside the giant dryers than shiver outdoors, when he could.

He was not so lucky to have Katelyn with him today, but he didn’t let that bother him. He did, however, find himself working alongside Nicky Hemmick, the twins’ cousin. Nicky always managed to startle Jean, with his positivity and big smile. His mood always felt so at odds with Jean’s own that he couldn’t quite get along with him, and avoided him where possible.

Today, however, something of Nicky’s good mood seemed to be rubbing off on Jean. Nicky chattered away to anyone who would listen, and Jean surprised himself by being one of those people. Nicky spoke about his partner, Erik, as though he were just upstairs, not half a world away. Something about his enthusiasm was infectious; he made a lot of people smile. He irritated a great many others, usually including Jean.

‘You were going to get married?’ Jean found himself asking, as they dragged heavy, wet sheets out of the machines. ‘To your partner?’

Nicky blinked in surprise, but answered quickly with a smile. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘We were technically engaged, I guess, but it wasn’t like _official_ official. We’d just talked about it so much that it was pretty much a done deal, and it wasn’t until I was in here that I realised neither of us had technically proposed. I guess that part didn’t seem so important. I dunno, I don’t have any regrets. I don’t even regret not marrying him sooner. They would have taken my ring off me.’

He finished this with a little jerk of his head, meaning those upstairs. Of course, all of their possessions had been taken from them. He’d heard the complaining, brief though it was. Jean himself owned nothing.

‘Do you miss him?’ asked Jean.

Nicky nodded. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, easily. ‘Every day, all the time. But I know he’s safe. Or as safe as anyone can be these days. And I’ll see him again.’

Jean raised his eyebrows. ‘You think so?’

Nicky looked at him sideways. ‘Uh, yeah. You’d know more about it than I would, though, right?’

It took Jean a moment to figure that one out. ‘Oh,’ he said, finally. ‘Right, that.’

It seemed like things were moving along pretty quickly without him. Neil was already getting the word out. Jean could only hope he was being as discreet as possible.

He tried to hold the warmth of his day inside him as he trudged up the stairs to dinner. Before, he would have preferred to remain down there, hungry or not. But no matter how unappealing the food was, seeing Jeremy trumped everything else.

And when he arrived, food in hand, Jeremy looked scarcely less excited to see him too.

’Never do that to me again,’ he declared, punching Jean’s shoulder gently, taking his food as almost an afterthought. ‘I’ve been going crazy down here. Come on, sit down.’

He took Jean by the hand and pulled him down. The blankets were already folded into neat squares for sitting on. As Jean looked around, he could have sworn the place looked different.

‘Did you clean in here?’ he asked, frowning.

Jeremy made an expansive shrugging gesture, though he did wince a little as it stretched his healing shoulder. ‘Had to do something,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking about trying to sleep during the day so I can go help the guys in the tunnel at night.’

Jean frowned. ‘I thought we explained why you couldn’t do that?’

‘I won’t actually be digging,’ Jeremy said. ‘But they’ll be there for hours at a time, during the middle of the night. It’s not feasible to ask you guys to give up your sleep to supervise, but my schedule is clear.’ He reached out and nudged Jean’s arm. ‘Let me help, yeah? It’s the least I can do.’

Jean couldn’t argue with the logic, much as he didn’t like the idea of Jeremy roaming around by himself down here while he slept. Just thinking about it gave him an itch.

‘Well, alright,’ Jean said, accepting his portion of Jeremy’s food without complaint. There was no use arguing with him when it came to sharing what he had. Tonight it was some dried fruit. Apricots, Jeremy called them. They were sweet and chewy, filling Jean’s mouth with flavour. It was a sweetness he thought he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

Jeremy was looking at him expectantly. Jean met his gaze with an expectancy of his own, and they stayed that way until Jeremy finally laughed and nudged him again. ‘Well? Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘Oh, right,’ Jean remembered, with a little laugh of his own. It was easy to forget about his own concerns when he was down here. ‘Well, Kevin and Neil want you to come upstairs. Talk to people. Persuade them, you know.’

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. ‘Seriously? Like a rally or something?’

Jean didn’t know the word. ‘Neil’s going to gather as many as he thinks will be interested in really leaving, and have you talk to them. Convince them that it’s worth it. If you’re ok with that.’

Jeremy was nodding along, looking eager, like Jean had known he would. ‘That’s a great idea,’ he said. ‘Yes, of course I’ll do it. If they think it’ll help then yes.’

He watched Jean’s face carefully as he looked back down at his hands. ‘You don’t seem so sure about it,’ he said.

Jean shrugged. ‘Kevin and Neil want you to do it, so.’

Jeremy was still trying to catch his eye. ‘But _you_ don’t,’ he said. ‘What is it, Jean? What’s the problem?’

Jean fidgeted with his hands, trying to be honest.

‘I don’t disagree with the plan,’ he said, finally. ‘If we wanna get people out of here, you are definitely the best person to convince them, not us. I just …’ He sighed, and it occurred to him that Jeremy wouldn’t understand why Jean found Kevin’s desire to save everyone strange, because Jeremy was exactly the kind of person who would insist on doing exactly that. Instead, he gave Jeremy his other concern, as the least problematic of the two.

‘It’s a risk,’ he said, simply. ‘You’ll have to go right upstairs to where we live, to where the guards live. They know our faces too well, you’d never get away with being spotted, not even for a second. I don’t like it.’

Jeremy, unlike Neil and Kevin, actually gave his concerns some thought. ‘It is a risk,’ he agreed, tapping his mouth. Jean watched the movement closely. ‘But a necessary one. I’ve been doing risky shit since I joined up with the militia, Jean. If this helps rescue people then it’s no different to any other day for me.’

It dawned on Jean then that this was just another adventure for Jeremy. Jeremy had his life to lose. What was Jean risking in this?

‘Alright,’ he said again, softly. ‘Ok.’

Jeremy watched him in silence for a few minutes. Jean, tired of avoiding his gaze, looked back at him. The warmth of the day’s work was nothing compared to what he found in Jeremy’s eyes.

That night, Jeremy went down into the basement to help supervise the digging. Neil went down too, uncomfortable with relinquishing all control over that space to an outsider. But he returned before lights out and didn’t have too much to say about it. Jean smiled to himself in the dark, pleased that even Neil couldn’t find fault with Jeremy.

He returned to the basement eagerly the next morning, wanting to hear how it had gone. Instead, he found Jeremy sleeping. He stirred a little at Jean’s entrance, but didn’t quite wake up.

Jean stopped dead, watching him. From the light in the hallway he could make out his slim form under the blanket, his chest rising and falling. One arm was thrown over his head, and his bad arm was cradled against his chest.

Disappointment flared in Jean’s chest, but he wouldn’t allow himself to wake him. Instead he left Jeremy’s breakfast on the gas cylinder and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could.

Jean couldn’t focus on anything that day. He wanted to know how the night had gone, but more than that he just missed Jeremy. He felt off-kilter, like he’d missed a step on the stairs.

‘How did the dig go?’ Katelyn asked him at dinner. She jostled someone else out of line impatiently to stand next to Jean.

Jean glanced at her. ‘Don’t know,’ he replied, shortly.

Katelyn frowned. ‘You want? Did Jeremy say - ‘

‘He was asleep.’

Katelyn paused, then ducked her head to hide her smile. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So that’s why you’re cranky.’

Jean whipped his head around. ‘I am not cranky.’

‘Are so.’

Jean had been drawn into many a game of “are not/are so” with Kevin throughout his childhood, and it was never worth it. He turned back to the dinner line, trying to drum up some interest in whatever mush was being served tonight.

‘But you’re going back down tonight, right?’ Katelyn pressed.

Jean jerked his head irritably. ‘Of course.’

Katelyn clapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘That’s my boy. You’ll get me all the gossip, right? All the details?’

‘What exactly do you think they’re doing down there?’ Jean asked, her with a frown.

Katelyn made a noise of exasperation and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. ‘I’m just excited, ok? I’m excited to - ‘

‘Don’t say it,’ Jean warned, turning on her with wide eyes. ‘Don’t you dare.’

Katelyn raised her eyebrows. ‘I was just going to _say_ that I’m excited to see Aaron again.’

Now it was Jean’s turn to be surprised. ‘You are?’

Katelyn shrugged. ‘Sure. I like him. I want to see him again. Butterflies in the tummy, that sort of thing.’

Her honesty startled him. Jean didn’t know how to respond to it.

Katelyn nudged him. ‘You know what that’s like, right?’

Jean almost dropped his tray. ‘What?’

Katelyn made a tiny noise of amusement. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘It’s ok to like him, Jean. Haven’t you ever liked someone before?’

Jean didn’t answer, but his silence answered for him.

‘Oh,’ said Katelyn, a tad awkward. ‘Well. New experiences are good, right? Just enjoy it. It’s a good feeling. Doesn’t last forever, though.’

Jean wasn’t sure _what_ he was feeling. But it was definitely a complication that none of them needed or had time for, so he tried his best to not think about it. Just like every other thing he was trying not to think about, he pushed it into a corner of his mind and hoped it wouldn’t resurface any time soon.

Katelyn was wise enough to drop the subject, but it did get Jean thinking. They sat together at dinner, and between bites he quietly explained to her how to use his lock picks. He didn’t consider them “his”; Neil had ordered them for himself. Jean was just the one who got the most use out of them.

‘Come by tonight,’ he said. ‘Neil will give them to you. He knows where they are.’

‘Because you’ll be downstairs, right?’

There was no teasing in her voice, but Jean suspected it was there nonetheless. ‘Yes, I will.’

And he was. He took his usual five giant mouthfuls of dinner and scooped the rest into his little plastic baggie, shoved it up his sleeve, busted his tray, and got out of there. Kevin and Neil were still eating, a few seats down, talking quietly together. No one paid him any attention. Jean remembered when he used to hate that.

When he got downstairs, Jeremy was wide awake and waiting for him.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I was asleep,’ he began, as soon as Jean pushed open the door. ‘I was out there all night, and when I came back I just thought I’d nap for an hour or two before you came down, then sleep properly during the day, but man I just passed out. I swear I didn’t mean to.’

Jean was grinning. He couldn’t help it. Jeremy just teased it out of him.

‘Please, don’t apologise,’ he said, quietly, trying to control his face. ‘I only ever have a few minutes in the morning anyway.’

Jeremy sighed, and gave him a little smile. ‘But you spend them on me,’ he said.

Jean didn’t know what to say to that, so he just offered the bag of dinner and sat down with him.

‘So how did it go?’ he asked, once Jeremy had gotten a few mouthfuls down.

‘Great,’ Jeremy replied, with the expected enthusiasm. ‘Really great. It was just me and the girls. The twins will be back tonight.’

Jean nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m sending Katelyn down to help, if you guys want to trade shifts.’

‘Really?’ Jeremy looked please. ‘That sounds good. The twins are used to being nocturnal but I started to fade sooner than I’d like.’

He thought some more, then added, ‘And it’ll be nice for Katelyn and Aaron to spend more time together. She’s really into him.’

Jean felt a jolt of surprise. ‘How did you know that? When were you speaking with her?’

Jeremy looked at him, amused. ‘I wasn’t. I thought it was pretty obvious the other night.’

Jean was baffled. ‘How did I miss that?’ he wondered aloud.

Jeremy laughed gently. ‘Ah, don’t worry about it,’ he said, with a little wave of his hand. ‘I’m just a romantic idiot. They were flirting, it was cute.’

This was interesting information. Jean thought about it all the way back upstairs, only becoming distracted by Neil and Kevin sloping back from wherever they went when Jean wasn’t around.

‘You’re back early,’ Kevin said, looking surprised, and a little bit caught. Neil’s gaze was challenging. 

Jean shrugged. Jeremy had been tired, and Jean knew he was anxious about not being able to last the whole night again. So he’d told him to sleep, and left despite his protests. Katelyn and Aaron were into each other, and Jeremy had noticed? Jean kept rolling it around in his head, but he couldn’t figure out what he’d missed. All told, it hadn’t been a great day.

‘Did Katelyn get my lock picks?’ he asked Neil, who was rubbing absently at a bruise on his neck.

‘Uh, yeah, she came by after dinner,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna go down and check it out though, just in case.’

Jean snorted. ‘Why? Jeremy can handle it.’

‘Well, I don’t know him like you do,’ Neil replied.

‘Clearly not.’ Jean frowned between them. ‘Where were you two, anyway?’

Kevin and Neil glanced up at each other, and Jean had never felt more excluded in his life. He didn’t bother asking again.

‘Hey, Jean.’ Neil caught up with him in the dorms. ‘Listen, we’ve been talking.’

‘Have you?’ Jean replied, disinterested. He stripped off the overalls he wore over his sleep clothes for his Jeremy visits and folded them neatly on the locker at the end of his bed. It contained nothing but clothes and underwear.

‘We want to do something to destabilise the guard,’ Neil went on, ignoring Jean’s sarcasm. ‘If we can steal their keys we can get Andrew to make a mould of it. He can be back before morning.’

Jean turned. ‘No.’

Exasperation flickered over Neil’s face. ‘Come on. I’ll do the actual stealing. I just need you to keep a lookout.’

‘Why can’t Kevin do it?’

‘Because Kevin’s no good in a fight,’ Neil said impatiently. ‘You know that.’

‘I’m not getting into any fights,’ Jean snapped.

‘Jean - ’

Jean grabbed his arm and made him look. Neil winced but met his gaze.

‘Neil,’ Jean said, trying to put as much sincerity into his voice as possible. ‘I am not going back into solitary. I’ve been out for two fucking weeks, it’s not happening again, you hear me?’

‘Hey.’ Kevin had spotted them, and looked furious. ‘Take your hand off him.’

Jean let him go, but pointed a sharp finger at Kevin instead. ‘I know you put him up to this,’ he said. ‘You egg him on. Why can’t you just stick to the one plan? what’s wrong with what we’re already doing?’

‘Lower your voice,’ hissed Neil.

But Jean, already wound up at the sight of them together and everything else, would not be silenced. ‘I know you’re both off hatching whatever plans you like to come up with whenever I’m not around, but you clearly still need me to be the voice of reason,’ he said. People were starting to stare at them, but not too hard. This wasn’t the first time they’d had public spats.

‘It’s just important to us, Jean,’ Kevin insisted, coming up close. His green eyes had once been such a comfort to Jean. Now they filled him with uncertainty, because they were so often elsewhere. More and more, Jean found that Kevin was unwilling to meet his eyes.

But he met them now, and Jean seized the opportunity to get in his face. ‘Why are you really doing this?’ he asked softly. ‘What are all these people to you?’

Because they surely couldn’t be more important to him than Jean.

Kevin’s face twisted up, just like it used to when Riko would torment him, and Jean felt a quick flash of guilt. It was hard, even now, to treat Kevin poorly. He still heard him screaming in his nightmares.

‘I told you before,’ Kevin said, his voice low. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

‘Why don’t I believe you?’ Jean asked him. ‘Why do I feel like you’re lying to me? To _me_?’

Maybe that didn’t mean anything to Kevin anymore. He pulled away, averting his gaze. Neil stepped in.

‘We can talk about it tomorrow,’ he said, pushing Kevin back.

‘No,’ Jean said, flatly. ‘You can have Jeremy - he’s agreed to come up and talk to whoever. But that’s it. I’m not - ‘ He faltered, shook his head. ‘I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t.’

He looked at Kevin one last time, hoping he’d speak up and say anything to make Jean think he was still on his side. Then he looked back to Neil. ‘Please, Neil. No more.’

Neil rarely conceded ground on a first outing, but he stepped back with a little sigh. He’d probably try to convince him again, but hopefully with less heart now that Jean had made his mind up.

He didn’t mention it to Jeremy in the morning, in part because he feared Jeremy would think it another good idea. Jeremy had a considered opinion of Jean, and Jean was loathe to fill him in on just how big a coward he really was. Besides, it was a nice morning. By unspoken consent both of them were making up for some lost time. Jean grabbed breakfast and went, and Jeremy had already paced the length of the halls waiting for him.

‘Another productive night?’ Jean asked, just to get Jeremy started.

‘Definitely,’ Jeremy said, munching his cold toast as though it was as buttery hot as it had been when Jean had stolen it from the table. The butter was weak and the bread wasn’t like the bread Jean remembered from before the war started, but neither of them complained. ‘Katelyn’s great, you know. Aaron actually smiled, like, twice. She and I got all the dirt into those sacks Neil left out and emptied it in behind the wall panels, like he said. Swept up every crumb. Even if the guards poke their heads in during the day they won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.’

That was important. The diggers could only work if there was someone around to move what they excavated.

‘It’s definitely a two man job,’ Jeremy went on. He was jiggling his knee and looked exhausted, but kept chattering away. Jean soaked it in for as long as he could. ‘But you’ll have to share the work with Katelyn, so she can get some sleep.’

Jean grunted. He didn’t look forward to losing sleep, but if Jeremy would be there …

‘And you’re still set on this nocturnal business?’ he checked.

Jeremy nodded. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘Absolutely. Between us, we’ll get it done.’

‘I hope you’re not doing any heavy lifting,’ Jean said suddenly, with a frown.

Jeremy smiled ruefully. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.’

Jean threw up his arms. ‘Why do I bother?’

Jeremy was laughing at him, his restless leg nudging Jean’s. Even though Jean had to go - he always had to go - he went with Jeremy’s laughter stored inside him, like something warm and soft that caressed.

Jean was anticipating another day at the laundry, but was surprise to find himself once again reassigned. What was even more surprising was that he didn’t know _where._

Force of habit sent his eyes straight to his count. Once he’d ascertained that his numbers were good - that he’d worked hard enough, moved fast enough, carried enough, lifted enough, whatever - they drifted to the letters that spelled out where he would be today. He knew what all the different words looked like by now, but he didn’t know this one.

Jean looked swiftly at Kevin, and was relieved to see some confusion on his face, too. Together, they looked down at Neil.

‘East wing,’ he read, quietly. He looked up at Jean. ‘Solitary?’

Jean frowned. ‘Maybe. I know where it is, but … I guess we’ll see when we get there.’

Kevin wasn’t joining them, but Neil and Katelyn were both on Jean’s team for this new expedition. No one was any the wiser. Jean assumed it was some new project - everything had been a new project in the beginning - but he couldn’t imagine what it was. But then, he didn’t have much of imagination for these things.

When they got there, they found cold empty hallways in a half finished stone wing wanting walls and doors and a smooth floor. The work was back-breaking, and all Jean could think was they must be more store rooms. The rooms were small, barely enough to hold two beds let alone a dozen. Store rooms, then. Or maybe rooms for more guards. Jean had heard that they had whole rooms to themselves, though he’d never seen one. Jean could only speculate. There was only bricks and cement, shovels and hammers and nails. No tell-tale furniture with which to place a guess.

When it came time to head back down the hall and across the yard for dinner, Jean felt like he’d aged twenty years. Everyone was hobbling, stiff and sore in every limb. As they crossed the yard, Jean was reminded of when he’d crawled out of solitary a few weeks ago. He’d felt bad then, though not as bad as now - physically, at least. Emotionally … well, he was a world away.

There was no evening count, but Neil disappeared to check the board anyway, along with a few of the newer additions who were still a little anxious about their numbers. No one else had been killed since Jean had returned from solitary, but things could change very quickly.

Jean sat with the two empty spaces on either side of him, eating quickly but looking around for Neil and Kevin. When Neil returned he was both anxious and alone.

‘Where is he?’ grunted Jean, pushing Neil’s dinner towards him.

Neil just shook his head mutely and started eating. Maybe he was just too tired to respond.

By the time Jean left, Kevin still hadn’t arrived. Neil still had a plate for him, and he looked ready to sit there until Kevin turned up to take it. Jean couldn’t do anything for him that would be worth a damn.

Downstairs, Jean confessed his worries to Jeremy. ‘Kevin’s count has been low lately,’ he said, worrying the frayed cuff of his sleeve. ‘I think he’s distracted. He’s not working like he normally does.’

Jeremy looked at him with interest. ‘So how does that work?’ he asked. ‘The points system.’

Jean huffed a laugh, though it wasn’t remotely funny. ‘Oh, who knows anymore? The guards decide. They watch us all day every day, making their notes. Keeping track of what we lift, move, build. How far we walk, and for how long.’

Jeremy looked intrigued. ‘But you must have some idea how it’s done, right? I mean, if your count has always been good.’

Jean shrugged. ‘I think my body just knows the right pace to work at now. I’m not sure if I can do it any other way. But there are no rules written down anywhere.’ He paused, then snorted. ‘And even if there were, it’s not like I could read them.’

Jeremy considered him. ‘You can probably read more than you know.’

Jean thought about the morning’s confusion at the board, but didn’t want to ruin Jeremy’s illusions.

‘I just don’t want Kevin getting into any trouble,’ he said. ‘Especially not now.’

Not now, not ever. Kevin couldn’t handle solitude. A month in the hole would break him.

Kevin was safe in bed when Jean returned. He and Neil were both asleep, though it was not very late. Jeremy and Jean’s conversation had trailed off as a result of Jean’s melancholy, and Jean had left before Jeremy could start having second thoughts about saving him.

Watching Neil and Kevin sleep on either side of his bed, Jean thought how out of place he was in all of this. The only one not sure. The only one too afraid to decide. Neil and Kevin were well-suited; they had made their decisions, they stood together. They were a team. A little part of Jean ached for that, all the worse for having had a taste of it, once. 

Maybe he should go down to the tunnel and help the diggers some night soon. He was slightly averse to doing it - he barely got any sleep these days as it was, his mind spinning too hard each night to let him drop off with any ease - but, thinking about it, it could be fun. It would certainly be better than tossing and turning in bed.

And Jeremy would be there. Katelyn could have a night off - he'd choose a night when the twins weren't on duty, so as to not deprive her of Aaron and whatever she was getting out of that situation - and Jean could spend some more time with Jeremy. Maybe get to know his friends. Maybe it would be enough to overcome his fear and make him actually want to leave this place. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no you're not seeing things, i AM increasing the number of chapters because shockingly my 2 line notes turn significantly longer when actually expanded lol

Kevin wouldn’t talk about why he’d been so late upstairs, but he had new shadows under his eyes the next day. Neil was watching him very carefully, so much so it looked like he had a twitch. To distract him, and give a harried Kevin some breathing space, Jean suggested to Neil that they inspect the digging that night.

‘They could probably use some guidance,’ Jean suggested quietly, as they brushed their teeth. ‘Has anyone even measured my shoulders?’

Neil frowned at him in the mirror. ‘Good point,’ he said, around his toothbrush. He spat into the sink and wiped his mouth. ‘I’ll meet you down there after lights out.’

Jean nodded. ‘And maybe we should leave Kevin out of it. He’s so tired, and I think the whole situation freaks him out a little.’

Neil paused, and looked at him. His blue eyes were piercing; sometimes Jean felt like Neil could see right through him. Read his mind, even.

‘Ok,’ he said, finally, unable to find an ulterior motive in Jean’s suggestion. ‘Fine.’

‘Will you be staying?’ Jeremy asked, when Jean told him that evening. He was dutifully eating his soggy vegetables without complaint, despite the fact that they were bland bordering on unpleasant. Whoever was in the kitchens this week deserved a lifetime ban.

Jean shook his head, with a twinge of regret. ‘Not tonight,’ he said. ‘But … maybe tomorrow?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘It’s fine, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know you guys have a full day’s work done by the time we head down there. But the girls will be there tomorrow. I’d like to introduce you to them properly.’

Jean felt slightly apprehensive at the prospect of being weighed up and judged by Laila and Alvarez, who seemed to be Jeremy's closest confidents. But it was too hard to say no to Jeremy.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there.’

Jean held the memory of Jeremy’s excited grin in his heart as he made his way down to the tunnels again that night, in considerably worse company. It wasn’t that he disliked Neil - he just got the feeling that Neil didn’t quite trust him, or anyone really. Except Kevin, who he sometimes treated like a scared animal. Though he rarely spoke about it, Jean strongly suspected that Neil had had a very hard life before he'd come here.

Neither of them had ever been prone to small talk, but Jean found that his time spent with Jeremy had caused him to grow used to chatter. Therefore the walk felt very silent to him, and he was grateful to pass through the doorway and into their secret chamber of digging and hidden things (as Jeremy referred to it), to find Katelyn and the twins waiting.

Katelyn’s presence filled the room, especially when she laughed and tossed her hair. Though there was scarcely any light cast by the dim, low energy bulb, she seemed to catch all of it and throw it back, shining brighter than before. Aaron didn’t so much as glance away from her at their entrance, even though Katelyn had a big smile for them both. Neither did Andrew, but Andrew always reminded Jean of the scrawny cat that prowled around the animal pens, catching mice. Jean rarely worked that side of the estate, but when he did he always liked to touch the animals, stroking their soft faces. He was sure that the cat would be soft, but he had never been allowed to find out. It always pretended not to notice Jean - it would not even glance towards him - but Jean always felt like he was being watched. It was the same with Andrew. The silent twin’s eyes never strayed far from Neil, but, like the cat, Jean had a feeling that Andrew missed nothing.

Neil got right down into the tunnel to have a look for himself. Jean scuffed his feet around the edge, slightly uncomfortable standing between Aaron and Katelyn’s bright conversation and the looks Andrew was giving Neil’s ass as he wriggled down the tunnel. He wished Jeremy would hurry up.

‘Jean, you’d better get down here,’ Neil called up, voice muffled. ‘You’re the one who has to fit.’

Jean hunched in on himself slightly, trying to appear smaller than he was while everyone glanced at him, even Andrew, as though to measure how much work he was making them do. ‘I’m not the _only_ one, Neil,’ he said. ‘There are plenty of other people with broad shoulders.’

‘Whatever.’ Neil made an impatient noise. ‘Trade places with me, see if you fit.’

Jean thought he would wither in humiliation. Neil climbed up from the hole, dirt smudging his cheeks, and stood beside Andrew. Jean climbed down awkwardly into the hole and lay down on the metal trolley. He pulled himself into the hole, slowly.

‘We’re trying to make it as wide as that first bit,’ Aaron called down, finally disengaging from Katelyn. ‘We’ve been eyeballing it so far. How’d we do?’

‘Not bad,’ Jean called back, giving an experimental wiggle. His shoulders did brush the sides, but there was enough room. He went a bit further in, testing out how it worked. The air around him smelled damp and cold, and very earthy. ‘How stable is it?’

‘It’s fine,’ retorted Andrew, as though Jean had personally insulted everything he’d built.

‘It does get pretty claustrophobic,’ Aaron warned. ‘Especially if you’re not used to it.’

‘Jean doesn’t get claustrophobic,’ he heard Neil say. ‘Kevin said they got stuck in a pipe once when they were small. Kevin freaked, but Jean was fine.’

Jean frowned. Kevin said that? Jean barely remembered.

Aaron grunted. ‘Nice for some. If he wasn’t so big he could do our job.’

‘I’m coming out now,’ Jean said loudly. ‘You can all stop talking about me.’

‘Aw, but I only just got here.’

Jean sat up too quickly, and his head scraped the lip of the tunnel. He wound up with dirt in his hair and probably a startled expression on his face, and found Jeremy grinning at him as he shut the door behind him.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, nodding at the twins. ‘Fell asleep after you left,’ he added to Jean with a sheepish smile. Jean felt his own mouth stretch to mirror it.

‘Need a hand?’ Jeremy asked, crossing quickly to extend his hand down.

Jean raised an eyebrow. ‘Not from you,’ he said. ‘It’ll strain your shoulder.’

Jeremy tsked. ‘This isn’t my bad shoulder.’

Jean tapped his hand away and hopped out of the tunnel by himself. Jeremy straightened but didn’t move back, and Jean found himself suddenly right up in Jeremy’s space.

‘You shouldn’t be doing _any_ strenuous activity,’ he reminded him, gently. He edged around him, trying to collect himself. ‘Don’t undo all that good work.’

Aaron and Katelyn were discussing something with Neil, and Andrew was looking on, but Jean didn’t pay them any attention.

‘If you’re tired, why don’t you go back down and get some sleep?’ Jean said, with a flicker of concern. He felt the bizarre urge to reach out and touch his arm.

Jeremy just shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m ok,’ he said. ‘You guys get what you needed?’

Jean nodded his head over at Neil. ‘That’s up to him,’ he said. ‘But I do fit.’

Jeremy grinned broadly. ‘See, I told them you would. Don’t believe them if they say they were guessimating - I gave them measurements.’

Jean wasn’t sure how Jeremy had managed to figure out exactly how wide Jean was in inches and centimetres, but then again Jean didn’t really understand math beyond basic counting.

Jeremy became briefly distracted by a question from Katelyn, and Jean’s attention flickered to Neil and Andrew. The only reason they caught his eye was because they were standing so close together. Andrew practically had his nose against Neil’s cheek. For someone who didn’t enjoy personal contact at the best of times, it was decidedly weird that Neil was allowing this. And stranger still, Jean thought he might actually be enjoying it. There was a certain … slump … to his shoulders, that Jean rarely saw. Neil and the word “relaxed” rarely entered the same sentence, but it was the only word that felt remotely appropriate in this scenario.

When Neil decided he’d done enough micromanaging, Jean bade Jeremy a quick goodbye before turning to watch, as subtly as he could, how Neil left Andrew. It was a small thing, but Jean saw it now that he was paying attention. A long, serious look. How Andrew’s eyes flickered down to Neil’s mouth and lingered there before finding his gaze again. It seemed like Neil had to tear himself away.

Jean had been going to ask, but now he didn’t need to. Jeremy had gotten it wrong. It wasn’t Kevin that Neil was entangled with - it was Andrew. Jean didn’t see a need to think any more on the subject. Kevin may have found a match for his fanaticism in Neil, but there were no stronger feelings there. This thought settled Jean, and made him warmer towards Neil. Neil, clearly still basking in the afterglow of being around Andrew, was in a similar mood, and the two found themselves in high spirits on their return to the upper levels.

‘You know, it might do Kevin some good to see the tunnel,’ Neil said quietly, as they waited behind a staircase for two chatty guards to move on. ‘It might help him to visualise it all.’

Jean nodded, though he was not really agreeing. It hadn’t helped him personally, but he and Kevin often had different perspectives on things. For his part, Jean wouldn’t believe he was out and free until he was 100 miles away and the estate was burned to the ground. The idea of being outside these walls for even a minute was still an impossible concept, bordering on ridiculous.

‘Talk to Jeremy,’ Neil added. ‘I want to get this locked down. Three night’s time, Katelyn’s sleeping hall. It’s furthest from the guard’s room.’

The ever-present knot in Jean’s chest loosened just a little. The sleeping halls all looked the same, but Jeremy wouldn’t have to see _his_ space. He wouldn’t really have to see how Jean lived.

Back in their sleeping hall, they slipped into bed without another word between them. Both cast quick glances towards Kevin to check he was ok, but he was sound asleep and looking no worse for wear. It was a cursory glance from Neil, which Jean noted with further relief.

‘Three night’s time,’ he told Jeremy the next morning. ‘Get your speech ready.’

Jeremy smiled tiredly at him, accepting his withered apple and soggy breakfast burrito. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured. His fingers brushed Jean’s as he did so, and a peculiar little jolt went through Jean’s body at the contact, starting at his fingers and finishing up in his heart. He withdrew his hand quickly, confused.

‘Three night’s time, eh?’ Jeremy looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I’ll have to check my schedule, move a few things around.’

Jean felt the tug of a smile. ‘I’d appreciate that.’

Jeremy nudged him with his arm, and Jean felt that jolt again. ‘Well, since you asked so nicely. Will you escort me yourself?’

‘Of course. Who knows what you’d get up to if I wasn’t around?’

Jeremy smirked. ‘Oh, I can still get up to plenty with you around.’

Their little back-and-forth often had playful moments like this. Jean thought they might even be increasing. It gave him more hope than the idea of escape did, even if it was confusing and nonspecific.

They sat down to have their dinner together. Jean now took enough for both of them, and it was supplemented by the little snacks provided by Laila. Jeremy was generous with these, like he thought any night might be their last. He thought nothing of rationing them, or saving them for a future evening. As someone who lived day to day and was largely unable to think about any future prospects, Jean appreciated this.

Jeremy had voiced concerns about Jean not even bothering to eat in the dining hall anymore, but Jean had waved them away then as he did now. ‘I’m not the only one who takes food out,’ he said. ‘Some people don’t like being there, or around the guards, any more than they have to.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I think I’ve started a trend.’

Jeremy grinned. ‘Jean Moreau, you influencer.’

Jean felt an odd thrill at the sound of his name in Jeremy’s mouth. He had a particular way of speaking that was not unlike Katelyn’s and Laila’s but still different, with its depth and masculinity.

Jean had planned on returning upstairs, maybe napping until it was time to go down again, but it was Jeremy’s morning time and he was feeling chatty. Jean’s tiredness seemed to slip away when Jeremy was in moods like this; it was like some sort of energy transfer.

‘By the way,’ Jean said, suddenly remembering his earlier revelation. ‘I think you were wrong about Kevin and Neil.’

Jeremy looked up, interested. ‘Oh?’

Jean nodded. ‘Yes, it’s not Kevin that Neil is … I mean, it’s Andrew. Andrew is the one he - you know.’

Jeremy grinned. ‘“You know”,’ he echoed, gently teasing. ‘You’re so demure, Jean. I feel quite vulgar around you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Jean said, with feeling, and Jeremy burst out laughing.

‘Ok, so I was wrong,’ he admitted, once he’d settled down again. ‘I guess Andrew does pay him a lot of attention. Are you sure?’

Jean nodded stubbornly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know what I saw.’

Jeremy tilted his head at him. ‘You know, sometimes people can…’

But he trailed off, and glanced away. ‘No, never mind. You know Neil better than I.’

Sometimes Jean got the feeling that Jeremy sensed more their differences more than Jean did, and held back. Unfortunately, this didn’t make Jean any more eager to enter a world where everyone knew more than him, even the children.

‘Am I too different?’ he asked.

The words surprised them both.

’Too different for what?’ Jeremy queried.

Jean shuffled his feet and shifted his position, and when that wasn’t enough of a distraction he tugged on his sleeves.

‘Out there,’ he said, softly voicing one fear of many.

Jeremy’s lips parted slightly in a sigh, and then curled up in a little smile. ‘Jean … Having different experiences doesn’t mean that there’s something fundamentally different about you. And if you’re concerned about not being able to handle it, or whatever … I believe that people were always meant to live in the light. Even if you’ve spent your whole life in darkness, as you have, you’ll blossom once you get a taste of freedom.’

Jean sat up a bit. ‘Really?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Yes, I've been thinking about this a bit actually. You’ll thrive, Jean,’ he said, softly. ‘I know you will.’

It wasn’t quite enough to stop Jean from worrying, but there was an undeniable certainty in Jeremy’s voice.

They spent another quiet hour or two talking about nothing at all. Jean found he too had quite a bit to say this evening. He was still grappling with a few more important questions, but he’d already asked one of those this evening and didn’t think he could summon the courage to ask another, so he stuck to safer topics, like the birds nest in the gutter of the disused shed at the bottom of the garden, and how he thought the eggs might hatch soon.

‘They come back every year to that nest,’ Jean said. ‘The same two little birds. I’ve never seen them make their first flight, but maybe this year.’

Jeremy was smiling like Jean was telling him something truly fascinating. ‘You like birds?’

Jean nodded. ‘I wonder where they go,’ he said. ‘When they’re not here.’

Jeremy said nothing, but the unspoken hung between them nonetheless.

Despite Neil’s earlier words, Kevin didn’t make an appearance that night. Laila and Alvarez were already banging on the grate when they arrived, and Jean hurried to unscrew it.

‘About time!’ snapped Alvarez, as Laila threw herself out, gasping.

‘Sorry!’ called Jeremy, who was carefully shutting the door behind them. They had a little noisemaker of Neil’s creation set up down the hallway, just in case one of the guards who usually stayed away from this part of the basement decided to switch things up, and Jean had accidentally tripped it on their way over.

‘My bad,’ apologised Jean, as he helped Alvarez out. That was one of Jeremy's little expressions, and Jean liked to use it.

‘I don’t panic easily,’ Laila said grimly, hands on her knees. ‘But when that grate didn’t open and no one answered I thought I was gonna lose my head.’

Jeremy put a hand on her back and said gently, ‘Please know it was all Jean’s fault.’

Jean didn’t even bother with a retort; he couldn't get one out past his smile.

The girls’ natural good humour was quickly restored after two minutes with Jeremy. He ribbed them both easily, drawing out sarcasm and laughter, and soon the girls were picking up their trowels and dirt bags and hopping down into the tunnels again.

For Jeremy and Jean, there was a bit of twiddling their thumbs to do before any real work.

‘What do you normally do when you’re down here by yourself?’ Jean asked, as they cooled their heels by the edges of the tunnel.

‘Heckle them,’ Jeremy replied simply, and they laughed.

‘You heckle the twins?’

‘Oh, god no,’ Jeremy said. ‘I give Katelyn a hard time, though. Around about the 2AM mark I start to make little comments about Aaron under my breath that only she can hear.’

‘But what if Aaron does hear you?’

Jeremy grinned in amusement. ‘Jean, I think you’re missing the point.’

‘You give that girl such a hard time!’ Laila’s voice was muffled.

‘Only when I’m bored,’ Jeremy called back, then winked at Jean. ‘Laila is a defender of women everywhere. Almost every recruit she’s brought in over the last three years has been a lesbian.’

‘Got my own secret network,’ Laila retorted. They were still taking their measurements before moving further down the tunnel. ‘You bi boys will never know.’

Jean looked at Jeremy swiftly. ‘What does - ’

‘She means me,’ murmured Jeremy, with a little smile in Laila’s general direction. ‘And you’re going to have to deal with a straight woman some day,’ he called down to Laila, raising his voice slightly.

Laila scoffed. ‘A what?’

‘No such thing,’ added Alvarez, considerably more muffled.

Jeremy stifled a laugh as the two of them started singing a little rhyme that went “Every woman is a lesbian at heart …”

Jean felt like he’d missed out on a joke, which wasn’t an unusual feeling but for once he decided to ask. ‘A what?’

Jeremy tried and failed to mask his surprise. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. ‘A woman who is attracted to other women,’ he said, finally.

That wasn’t very interesting. ‘Oh, right,’ Jean shrugged. He hadn't known there was a word for that.

Jeremy was still looking at him oddly, so Jean added, ‘Hey, the first time I ever _spoke_ to a woman was three years ago. Cut me some slack.’

He was teasing, but it completely changed Jeremy’s expression. ‘Seriously?’

Jean nodded. ’I barely knew a handful of people before the war started,’ he reminded him. ‘Besides me and Kevin, it was just Riko and the guards and the servants. All men. And none of them would talk to us.’

Jeremy blinked. ‘God,’ he said. ‘No women. Don’t tell Laila, she’ll have nightmares.’

Jean huffed in amusement. The beginning of the war, and the introduction of new people to his tiny world, had been quite the revelation. No one was quite willing to talk to him, but he couldn’t help but stare. Tattoos, piercings - these were removed by the guards, but he’d seen the tiny holes and dents in their noses, ears, and lips - dyed hair, red hair, accents. People who didn’t look like him, or Kevin, or Riko. People whose skin wasn’t like theirs. And _women_. Jean hadn’t known where to look or what to do. But they didn’t act like he was particularly unusual - at least, until they learned that he was - so he had been able to get used to them on his own.

The first time he and Kevin had happened upon two of the new people - two men - locked in a passionate embrace on a stairwell, they’d almost fallen back down it. The fact that it was two men together was a secondary, lesser shock; this was the first kind of real intimacy they’d ever seen in their lives. It was the start of their very hectic and condensed sexual education; despite the circumstances, it seemed people from out there literally couldn’t stop talking about sex. In the first six months of the first influx of new people, startled and fresh from the war, Jean overheard so much illicit conversation that sometimes he had to physically remove himself from the situation. He’d never been a stranger to his own body’s needs, but it had always been so abstract before that.

And he’d never looked at Kevin that way, even at his most lonely and desperate. And even if he had, he knew he’d get no comfort from him. Kevin clung to Jean for safety and sanity, as Jean did Kevin, but beyond that he remained closed off and cold.

‘Was that hard for you?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean glanced at him. His hands were in his pockets, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the hole in the ground.

‘What?’ Jean was distracted.

Jeremy made a little gesture. ‘Growing up without women.’

Jean threw him a curious look that didn’t fail to get his attention. When Jeremy looked up, he appeared a little confused himself.

‘Well, growing up was hard enough,’ Jean said, slowly. ‘I don’t really think the lack of women occurred to me as a problem of any great significance.’

Jeremy’s lips twitched at this. ‘Well, when you put it like that … But I only meant - you know, growing up, having emotions … I remember what being sixteen was like.’

‘Sixteen,’ mused Jean. He remembered being sixteen too - more or less. He thought he knew what Jeremy was referring to now.

‘How old are you, Jean?’ Jeremy asked with interest.

Jean shrugged. ‘Kevin would tell you I’m twenty-six,’ he said. ‘Because he says he’s twenty-five, and swears blind I’m a year older. But it’s hard to keep track of the years in here. Especially when you don’t know how old you were to begin with.’

Jeremy considered that. ‘I’m twenty-five as well,’ he said. ‘I think you’re the oldest of us.’

Jean nodded. He liked the sound of "us". ‘And the wisest.’

‘Modest, too,’ Jeremy added, grinning.

‘Strongest.’

‘Tallest.’

‘Fairest.’

‘Oh, certainly.’

Jean blushed, and had no reply. Jeremy smile’s was teasing, but his eyes were warm.

They were called upon to do work shortly after that. Space was limited in the tunnel below, and the girls had to work quickly to pass back the excess earth. They ferried it back in a shallow tray that lay on one of the metal trollies. As the dirt began to come back, Jean gently knocked Jeremy’s hands aside to take it himself.

‘Your arm,’ he reminded him again, hefting the tray with ease. Joking aside, he really was stronger. A lifetime of all work and no rest did hard things to a body.

‘That can’t be any heavier than pulling open the boiler room door every morning,’ Jeremy objected.

Jean ignored him. He did let him pry open the wall panels and help him tip the dirt down into the spaces there. As he did so, Jean noticed that Neil had been reorganising. Things that had been lined up in neat shelves were now in bags and tied-up sacks. It looked like he was preparing to move things out at a moment’s notice. Jean wondered where he got the time.

‘I’ll just sit over here then, I guess,’ Jeremy said, throwing up his arms and wandering away from where Jean was hefting another tray of dirt and stones.

‘Wait, I do need your help.’ Jean called him back, and nodded at a stone that had toppled from the tray to the floor. ‘Pick that up, will you?’

Kevin would have slapped him by now if Jean had teased him as much as he was teasing Jeremy. It was just so easy to be light with him. They’d had their fair share of serious conversations in the short time they’d known each other, and though this was silly and playful it still felt important to Jean. It still felt strong.

‘Oh, it’s so heavy,’ Jeremy complained, scooping up the palm-sized rock from the floor. ‘I think this is too much for me. I am but a fragile waif. Phew.’ He dropped the stone back into the tray. ‘You’re gonna have to carry me to bed after that, Jean.’

Jean almost dropped the tray. Luckily Jeremy was already moving ahead of him to open the wall panel and didn’t see him blushing furiously.

He carefully poured the dirt and stones down behind the wall, Jeremy peering in over it to check the levels.

‘That’s the last one for here,’ he declared.

‘How many are already full?’ Jean wondered, looking around the room.

‘That far wall,’ Jeremy said, pointing. Jean raised his eyebrows. So many already.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Jeremy said confidently. ‘The tunnel is long, but it widens out once it leaves the grounds of the estate. It was built in a hurry.’

The more they dug, the further out the girls had to go. It left Jean and Jeremy alone for longer stretches of time, and with more space to move around they soon found ways to occupy themselves.

‘Isn’t this against your medical advice?’ Jeremy queried, as they tossed a small ball of rubber bands back and forth across the hall.

Jean shook his head. ‘It’s a good stretching exercise,’ he said, having no real idea either way. He’d never been allowed such a nice length of time to heal after an injury. ‘Just stop if it starts to hurt, ok?’

Jeremy grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’

The ball of rubber bands was just one more thing they’d found behind the wall panels. They’d used them to strengthen a cobbled together claw-type device about a year ago, which they’d used to sneak some keys from a guard. It hadn’t worked. Jean had gotten a week in the hole for that stunt. Simpler times.

‘How many times have you tried to escape?’ Jeremy asked, after Jean told him the story.

Jean snorted. ‘Too many to count,’ he said, though he knew exactly how many. ‘But I think this is our best one yet.'

Jeremy grinned. ‘I’ll say. This one’s actually going to work.’

Jean grunted. ‘Neil said that about all the others.’

‘Well, Neil’s an optimist.’

This actually drew a full laugh from Jean. ‘Neil is _not_ an optimist,’ he said. ‘He just has a high opinion of his own ingenuity.’

Jeremy whistled. ‘Ouch.’

‘I only meant that he’s confident in himself,’ Jean amended.

‘Hey, don’t let me stop you from trash talking,’ Jeremy said. ‘It’s good for you.’

Their game was interrupted by the reemergence of Alvarez, lugging both a tray and a thick sack full of earth.

‘We were on a roll,’ she explained, looking absolutely exhausted. Jean threw the sack over his shoulder before balancing the tray with one hand. Admittedly, this was a little bit heavier.

‘Can I help, let me help.’ Jeremy fluttered around him anxiously.

‘Just get the wall, please,’ Jean asked, with a little smile. Jeremy, grumbling, went to open a new wall panel.

‘Like an old married couple,’ Alvarez commented from behind him. Jean looked back at her swiftly and almost upset his perfect balancing act.

‘What would you do if I jabbed you in the ribs right now?’ Jeremy asked quietly, leaning over Jean’s shoulder as he dropped the sack and poured the contents of the tray behind the wall.

Jean tried to smother a smile, and failed. ‘I’d have to put you in the wall, too.’

‘You’d never,’ Jeremy accused.

Jean finished with the tray and let it lean against the wall while he replaced the panel. Then he fixed Jeremy with a firm stare and said, ‘Don’t try it.’

It was a mistake, and Jean should have known it. Jeremy’s hand shot out and Jean only just managed to slap it away.

They both froze, ready for the next strike.

‘ _Don’t_ ,’ Jean warned him, but it was with a smile he simply could not control.

Jeremy jabbed at him again, and this time Jean jabbed back, going for his exposed side. They got in close and stayed close, a brief but intense fight that devolved from slapping into hands gripping arms and waists and trying to do _something_. The point was lost in the pleasure of getting to lay hands on each other.

‘Didn’t know you were ticklish,’ Jeremy grunted, his finger inches from Jean’s side and barely held back by Jean’s hand gripping his wrist. His mouth was scarcely any less closer to Jean’s cheek.

‘Neither did I,’ admitted Jean, before landing a devastating blow to Jeremy’s ribs that sent him staggering back, breathless laughter on his lips. Jean let him go, grinning, but instantly missed the loss of his body so close.

‘Jeremy.’ One of the girls was calling him from the tunnel. Jeremy’s head instantly turned, and as Jean watched him go he felt suddenly like there was a line connecting them, tugging Jean along after him. He had gripped his wrist and felt the weight and strength of his shoulder - his good shoulder - pressing against his body. He’d felt his breath on his cheek. Jean’s body felt stung all over, in every place he had been touched.

They took a break to allow the girls some food and water, which they gratefully wolfed down. Katelyn, still on kitchen duty, had fallen into a life of smuggling like she’d been born to it. Neil was quite impressed with her efforts.

‘You’re getting thin,’ Laila said softly, pushing her share of hard bread on to Jeremy.

‘You’re working hard,’ Jeremy said, pushing it right back.

Laila took it, only to stop it from falling. ‘I’m going back to base after this and getting a hot meal.’

‘You’ve been eating less than half of what I get,’ Jean said softly, eyeing him. ‘I know how little that is. Take it.’

Jean knew now from experience that Jeremy was not the easiest man to take care of. He was more accustomed to taking care of others than being looked after himself. He met Jean’s eyes, and Jean saw that stubborn streak in him. Something like communication passed between them, and Jean asked him again, silently, to take the food.

Still looking at him, Jeremy wordlessly reached out for it.

Laila and Alvarez chatted good-naturedly about the work and their jobs, and Jean ate up the news. He could feel Jeremy watching him, wondering if this was making him more enthusiastic about the outside world. Just because Jean was interested didn’t mean he was excited. But it seemed like all these years of keeping his head down and maintaining a disciplined silence were starting to fall away as his worldview began to expand.

‘Dan and Matt say hi,’ Alvarez said, munching a handful of small, withered grapes. ‘She’s working on getting as many of the trays and gloves ready as possible. It’s a bit of a tall order, but she’s managing.’

‘Gloves?’ Jean queried.

The girls waved their hands at him, and Jean saw paths of calluses and darkened, rough skin across their palms. ‘We don’t use them anymore,’ Jeremy said softly. ‘But a few hours on the trays and your hands will be all torn up.’

Jean glanced down at his own hands. They were hard and cracked. Years toiling in the gardens, the kitchens, laundries, the hallways, and wherever else they sent him had hardened not just his hands to work.

‘Maybe not mine,’ he said quietly, before looking up at Jeremy. ‘Did you know I helped to build this room?’ he asked, surprising them all. ‘And all the other rooms down here. Kevin and I both. That’s why we know them so well.’

‘How long you been here, Jean?’ Laila asked quietly, fixing him with her dark eyes.

Jean looked at Jeremy before he answered. ‘All my life,’ he said. ‘More or less.’

Alvarez played with the few grapes she had left. Laila’s hand was on her folded knee. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘It sucks that you missed all the good stuff about the world before, but there’s a whole bunch of crap that you’re better off not having dealt with.’

Jeremy tsked, and Jean made a noise of amusement. This was one perspective he hadn’t heard before. ‘Like what?’

Alvarez gestured with her hand. ‘Oh, so much. Like … taxes.’

Jeremy grinned. ‘Traffic.’

‘Going to the dentist.’

Jeremy pouted. ‘What’s bad about going to the dentist?’

Laila laughed and Alvarez rolled her eyes. ‘Of course. Look at those teeth, I bet you always got one of those sugar free lollipops at the end.’

Jeremy gave her his big, toothy smile. ‘Sure did,’ he said, proudly.

Jean felt a little giddy. ‘What else?’

‘Work parties,’ said Laila.

‘Dealing with the bank. And the phone company.’

‘Stepping in dog shit.’

Alvarez raised her hand. ‘That still happens. There’s a doberman on base, he drops turds everywhere.’

‘You step in one?’

‘Two days ago. I wiped it off on your trunk.’

Jeremy was laughing, his face lit up with the glow of his friends’ banter.

‘Donald Trump,’ he added, and the two girls groaned.

‘Who is that?’ Jean asked.

‘Oh, the purity,’ Laila gasped, clutching her heart. ‘Imagine not knowing who he is.’

‘You’re much happier not knowing, sweetheart,’ Jeremy murmured, brushing Jean’s knee with the back of his hand. It was an unconscious gesture, the words casual coming out of his mouth and meant just for Jean. They set Jean’s heart racing, as though he’d been running, or gotten a sudden shock.

‘Ah, that mercifully dead bastard,’ Laila said, with a dreamy smile on his face. ‘Found rotting in his own shit.’

‘May he burn in hell,’ added Alvarez cheerfully, raising her canteen in a toast.

They had to go back into the tunnel after that, though they were nearing the end of the night’s work. Jeremy and Jean drowsed on the edge of the tunnel and tried to stay awake for the last few trips. Jeremy handled it better than Jean, who was trying not to think of how many hours of sleep he could get between now and the start of his day.

‘You should go,’ Jeremy said, nudging Jean’s shoulder.

Jean shook his head. ‘Katelyn does this every other night.’

Jeremy shook his head. ‘Aaron makes her leave after a few hours so she can get some sleep. I should have done that for you, I’m sorry.’

Jean smiled tiredly at him. ‘We do seem to lose track of time together.’

Jeremy’s returning smile was bigger and more beautiful than Jean had ever seen it. ‘We do,’ he agreed. ‘I think we would have been friends even if we’d met out there, you know.’

Jean raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh yeah? Even with …’ He struggled to recall. ‘Dentists and Donald Trump?’

Jeremy nodded, amused. ‘Even with those, yes. Though it’s unlikely we even would have met.’

Jean thought about that. ‘You’re not from near here,’ he said.

‘No,’ Jeremy agreed. ‘I’m from California.’ He paused. ‘And you’re from France.’

Jean shrugged. ‘If memory serves.’

‘What do you remember?’

Jean hesitated. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ’Nothing concrete. I meant Kevin’s memory. I think … well, he says that when I arrived I was not myself. I think I was in shock. And I had …’ He stopped, thinking of the cuts and scrapes he remembered seeing on his hands and knees. Two of his baby teeth gone - he could feel the old ache in his jaw. A ringing in his ear. Kevin’s wide eyes, his tears. Their fear a thick, sour smell, making his eyes water.

‘I don’t remember,’ he said. ‘And I’m glad I don’t. Kevin doesn’t talk about it. He said I came from France, and Neil said I speak French. There’s no point in wondering any further because I’ll never know.’

Jeremy digested this in silence, nodding slowly. ‘Would you like to start again?’ he asked. ‘Make new memories? Ones you actually want to keep?’

Jean looked at him sharply, but there was no manipulation in Jeremy’s eyes. No trace of ill will. Just tired concern, and a warmth that Jean was beginning to seek out and lean into. It always seemed to be there when he needed it.

‘Yes,’ he replied, haltingly. ‘I mean …’ He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. ‘It’s unsettling,’ he admitted. ‘I’m … afraid.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘It’s a goldfish bowl in here, Jean,’ he said, seriously. ‘Everything is magnified. You’ve been shaped a certain way that’s made you fear the world around you. But I can take you out of here, and you don’t have to be afraid of acting on your own free will anymore.’ He paused, then reached out and touched Jean’s arm. ‘I’m not trying to make light of this,’ he said. ‘But it will get better for you, I swear.’

Jean looked at him for a long minute, and Jeremy looked back.

‘Sometimes I wish things would just go back to the way they were before,’ he whispered. ‘When we were trying and failing to escape, and I was just one of three, and I knew what all the rules were. And I had never met you. Isn’t that terrible?’

Jeremy, for once, didn’t know what to say to that. His hand dropped from Jean’s arm. Jean smiled bitterly at his feet, the truth sounding loud and ugly in his voice.

‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Jeremy said. His voice sounded different to how it normally did. A little quieter, a little smaller. ‘And I’m not going to pretend I understand, because I couldn’t possibly. But for what it’s worth, meeting you has been the best thing that’s happened to me since this war started.’

Jean flinched, like his words were glass, though they’d been delivered with a softness he didn’t deserve, a softness no one had ever treated him with before in his life.

‘I think maybe losing everything was worth it, to find you,’ Jeremy added, his voice even quieter.

His words stung Jean’s skin much like the touch of his hands, and the feeling of his body against Jean’s. He found himself nodding, slowly.

‘I’m sorry I’m making this hard,’ he said, voice hoarse.

Jeremy swallowed. ‘You don’t have to apologise for anything,’ he said, a little more strength in his voice now. His hand twitched at his side, but didn’t move. ‘Not a single damn thing, Jean.’

 

Jean left as soon as the last tray and sack had been disposed of. Laila and Alvarez even had stones in their pockets, all for tipping down behind the walls to hide. They shooed him off to bed, telling him to leave the cleaning to them. Jeremy held his gaze as he bid them goodnight, or good morning, and Jean felt a little surge of something in his chest that stopped him from saying anything else.

Upstairs, it was mercifully still dark. Jean thought he might have three or even four hours left to sleep, which was far more than he expected. He stole into the sleeping hall and made his way down the rows to his bed. He was an expert at this manoeuvre by now, so it was just a chance twist of his body that he happened to glance at Neil’s bed, and notice that he was not in it.

There was something in it, though. A quick squint told Jean it was Neil’s pillow tucked under the blankets. Jean’s bed was the same, designed to fool any guard who might choose to poke his head in. Jean felt a brief flutter of panic before he looked to Kevin’s bed, and saw two dark heads sharing the same pillow. Neil was small enough and slight enough that he barely registered as a second person in the bed.

With Jeremy and his kind words and eyes and his touch that made Jean’s blood pound still on his mind, and now this, Jean didn’t get a single moment’s sleep for the rest of the night.

 

**

 

Jean wasn’t half as tired the next morning as he thought he’d be. Possibly because he’d caught his second wind somewhere around 4am and had now rolled right into a high-functioning exhausted person. He got out of bed so fast at the first morning alarm he barely noticed Neil slinking out of Kevin’s bed and back around to his own. He avoided Jean’s eyes, and Jean didn’t say anything about it. Kevin acted like there was nothing at all out of the ordinary.

Under instructions from Jeremy, he didn’t bring him breakfast that morning. Laila and Alvarez had supplied him with another bag of rations, and even though Jean knew Jeremy would try to force half of them on Jean, he’d also made him promise not to rush all the way downstairs in the morning. For once, Jean listened to him. He was feeling a bit wobbly, not to mention distracted.

Between dressing and teeth-brushing and hustling downstairs for breakfast and count, Jean’s attention flickered back and forth between Kevin and Neil. It wasn’t much different to how he usually went along, marking the spaces between them, Kevin-and-Neil, the only people in his orbit, the only people he cared about. His orbit felt a little different these days, however.

Still, they didn’t talk about it. Maybe if Jean had been a little more alert, he would have. As it was, he stumbled through breakfast and count and then, joy of joys, he was sent out into the fresh air to work with the animals.

It was hard work, but it kept him alert. No standing around waiting for the hot washers to finish, no labouring over stoves. It wasn’t all patting the cows and feeding the chickens; he shovelled shit and mucked out stalls and cleaned the milking equipment and did everything else that was required of him. The barn cat watched him with its sharp eyes, missing nothing. Despite the size of the farm, it was not the domain of mice.

Another nice benefit of farm work was that it finished about an hour earlier in the day, which meant that if Jean hustled he could get an hour of sleep in before dinner. His body was so tired he was considering napping beside the warm boiler in Jeremy’s room, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

So, at 5pm, Jean dragged his weary body upstairs to his sleeping hall. He feared tomorrow he would be put back on the strange building site on the east side of the estate, and he wanted to get as much rest as possible before that time. The rest of the work shifts would finish at 6pm, and dinner was at 6:30. Jeremy had asked him once if they ever got a “lunch break”. Jean’s blank stare had been enough of an answer for him.

He found his bed and collapsed on to it, and for a short time fell into a very deep sleep. Even as he fell, he knew he would feel worse upon awakening.

A scuffle outside woke him up. The dinner alarm had not yet rung. Jean’s heart leapt in his chest, pounding painfully as the unexpected sound jerked him from his sleep. He opened his eyes without moving, automatically finding the doorway. He’d pulled the door ajar before lying down, but now it was open. Two bodies stood in the doorway - the two he was most familiar with. In the seconds before Jean regained full consciousness, he thought they’d come looking for him. When he cast his eyes up, he expected them to be staring at him.

They were not. Jean couldn’t immediately make sense of what they were doing, or why Neil’s back was pressed against the side of the door, their feet stumbling over the threshold. He saw Kevin’s hands grasping at Neil’s slim waist, and heard the rushed, agitated sounds of their breathing. Neil’s hands were fisted in Kevin’s hair.

Jean held very still - he thought he might be paralysed. Something that burned both hot and cold was rushing through his body, and he didn’t know what to do.

‘Do we have time?’ Kevin was asking, his voice forced out, like he could barely spare the seconds necessary to speak the words before he could go back to kissing Neil.

Neil didn’t answer right away - because they were kissing again. The sound of it seemed to suck all the air right out of the room. Jean needed that air. He wished they would go. Just go away and leave him be.

‘No,’ Neil muttered, pressing his body up against Kevin’s. Kevin gave a tiny little gasp - Jean’s chest tightened - and lowered his mouth to Neil’s neck. ‘No, we don’t - lets go up to that …’

He didn’t name the place, because Kevin already knew. He nodded frantically, backing out of the room and taking Neil with him. They left the door open, their rapid footsteps echoing down the hall. They left Jean alone.

 

They were not at dinner. Jean had given up on sleep and was there waiting before the food had even arrived. Once he’d shovelled down a few mouthfuls he stole a hot potato and a buttered roll and some vegetables for Jeremy, and got out of there before he had to face Kevin or Neil. His face felt hot at the thought of even looking at them.

Jeremy was waiting for him with his usual warm smile and twinkling eyes, and Jean felt a shudder of relief. It did actually take a bit of the edge off, and he was able to hand over the goods and let Jeremy chatter in peace before Jeremy realised something was off.

‘I know you’re tired, but you seem a little more distracted than normal,’ he said. He was munching his carrots peacefully, even though he’d told Jean before he didn’t like them, and only ate them because they were healthy. Jean had never considered how different foods had different effects on his body. Chocolate was bad, apparently, which felt fake to Jean.

‘I just …’ Jean began, then stopped, unsure how to get the words out, or even what those words might be.

Jeremy frowned. ‘You look like you’ve had an experience,’ he said. ‘Are you ok? Are you sick?’

Jean just shook his head, although currently he was reliving the encounter and thought he might actually get sick or faint.

Jeremy had put down the food and was by his side in an instant. Somehow he had seen what Jean could not communicate.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, quietly. His voice was calm, where Jean had been expecting urgency. ‘How about you tell me what’s up?’

Jean took a few breaths and somehow it all came spilling out. He stumbled through what he’d seen, where he’d been, what had happened. It felt a little like something painful being drawn out of him, and though he kept his eyes on his shoes the whole time he could feel the warmth from Jeremy’s hand on his arm seeping through his skin and shoring up some things that had been in danger of crumbling.

To his surprise, Jeremy was smiling when he looked up. ‘Oh, Jean,’ he said, looking amused for some reason. ‘I guess I was right after all, huh?’

Jean, confused, took a minute to recall their earlier speculation about Kevin and Neil and the relationship between the two of them.

‘I guess it was a bit of a shock for you, since you were convinced it was Neil and Andrew,’ Jeremy said reasonably.

It was slowly occurring to Jean that Jeremy was not taking this seriously.

‘Ah, young love,’ Jeremy sighed. Again, light-hearted. ‘They’ll calm down after a while. Laila and Alvarez were so bad when they first got together, I wanted to throw a bucket of water over them.’

Laila and Alvarez were a team. There seemed no room for anyone else in between them. Kevin and Neil had each other, their own space and routines, and Jean didn’t know anything about them.

‘And you were just lying there?’ Jeremy was laughing. That sweet laugh that Jean normally loved to hear was something painful to him now. ‘That’s amazing, I can’t believe they didn’t even notice you.’

Kevin was slipping away from him. Jean would have nothing to anchor him to the ground after he was gone. He _needed_ Kevin. No one else had the same nightmares as he did. Kevin was his home, and he was Kevin’s home. Neil couldn’t possibly understand what he needed!

Jean’s breath was coming quick and fast. The humor in Jeremy’s eyes faded, and was replaced finally by something serious.

‘Hey, what is it?’ he asked, putting both hands on Jean’s shoulders. ‘This isn’t a bad thing, Jean.’

Then he paused, and something passed over his face that Jean, in his current state of agitation, couldn’t identify.

‘I need him,’ Jean forced out. ‘He can’t leave me.’

Jeremy held very still for a moment, and then straightened up.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Lets go talk it out.’

He led Jean down the hallway to the boiler room. The metal inside crashed and roared, the pipes shuddered, and Jeremy was able to shut his eyes and drown out all thought and image until the panic rising up inside him simmered and cooled.

Jean found himself shouting, and Jeremy stood back and let him.

‘He’s going to forget me.’ Jean’s hands were clenched into painful fists. ‘I need him and he needs me. I’ve only ever had him - he’s all I have in the world and now I’ve lost him!’ The words cut him even as he wielded them, but they kept spilling out nonetheless. ‘It was supposed to be just him and me, we didn’t need anyone else. Kevin is - ‘

An empty space.

‘Kevin is safe. He’s home.’ Jean’s arms were trembling. He hadn’t realised how much he needed Kevin until he lost him. The thought turned his stomach sour.

He finally looked up and found Jeremy’s eyes, desperately seeking some reassurance. The sadness he saw there, however brief, was shocking enough to shut him up.

‘Jean,’ he said softly. ‘I know it feels like you’ve lost him, but you haven’t. Loving someone is …’ he paused, like he was struggling to find the right words. ‘It’s the most natural thing in the world. But it doesn’t mean he’ll forget you, or stop loving you too.’

‘I never see him anymore,’ Jean said, his voice harsh, resistant to all comfort. ‘He avoids me.’

Jeremy just shrugged and smiled. ’That’s because you’re down here with me all the time,’ he said. ‘And he’s distracted, Jean. He’s in what we call the honeymoon phase. They can’t get enough of each other. That’s natural, too.’

Jean didn’t want to hear this, even though it made sense, of course it did. But he’d never felt so isolated in his life. So alone. He had had nothing but Kevin, and Kevin had nothing but Jean. There was comfort in that sameness.

Jeremy, normally so tactile, hung back from him. Jean sensed he thought he might explode or something. But when he spoke again, his voice was immeasurably kind.

‘Loving someone doesn’t mean that your love for someone else diminishes,’ he explained. ‘Humans have great capacity for love, Jean. It doesn’t shrink, it only grows. There's no limit to it. So you’re not losing Kevin, or his love. He deserves to be happy.’ Jeremy took a breath, then added quietly, ‘And so do you.’

Jean looked up at him, feeling a brief flicker of confusion. Happiness … Jean supposed he deserved it as much as the next person. It just never really seemed like a realistic goal. Where was the happiness to be found in here? There was only Kevin - and to an extent, Neil. The comfort in their familiarity, their sameness, their friendship. They were all on the same side.

Jean remembered the little sounds Kevin had made when Neil had kissed him. Jean thought he’d known all about sex and how it worked, but no one had ever mentioned kissing for the pleasure of it. Was that what love felt like? Maybe that was happiness?

It was all a bit much for Jean. Jeremy was standing very close to him, and with a sigh Jean tiredly dropped his head on to Jeremy’s shoulder without thinking about it. He felt Jeremy jump a little, probably from the weight of Jean’s big head, but he gave a little laugh and patted his back. He said something quietly, but Jean didn’t hear him over the noise around them.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jean said against Jeremy’s shoulder. Clearly he still understood nothing about people. Jeremy knew it all, and it must be very tiring to have to explain basic concepts to Jean all the time to stop him from freaking out.

Jeremy pulled back a little, forcing Jean to look at him. Jeremy was actually quite hard to look away _from_. He really did have the most beautiful eyes. They were deep brown and ringed with thick black lashes. He had a nice mouth, too. Because they were on the subject, Jean couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to kiss that mouth. The thought sent an immediate spike of feeling through his body, making him jump. Jeremy blinked, and stepped back.

‘Come on,’ he said, jerking his head. ‘This is therapeutic and all but it’s giving me a headache.’

They wandered back up to Jeremy’s little space, both of them silent and deep in thought. But by the time they sat down, Jean had recovered enough to have some questions he felt brave enough to ask.

‘Neil and Andrew,’ he said, mulling over the idea in his mind. ‘I didn’t imagine that.’

Jeremy smiled a little, settling himself down. ‘No, I don’t think you did.’

‘But how does that - ‘

‘Ah, don’t judge Neil too harshly,’ Jeremy said. ‘Whether or not he acts on anything with Andrew, he can’t help liking him, if he does. You can’t fight attraction.’

His eyes flickered to Jean’s briefly, lingering on him, before darting back down to his hands.

Jean didn’t know the first thing about love or loving someone like that, so it didn’t surprise him to hear that there could be more than two people in the mixture. Just to make things a bit more confusing for everyone - especially him, who was still trying to learn.

‘So do you … I mean, did you like him like that? Kevin, I mean?’

Jean looked up with a frown, and Jeremy actually blushed.

‘Or Neil,’ he amended. ‘I don’t … I mean, that was just such a strong reaction that I thought maybe you might be jealous.’

Jealous? Jean’s eyebrows flew up. Of course he was jealous. Hadn’t they established that?

But then … He thought about the subject of their conversation, and finally arrived where Jeremy was.

‘Oh. No. I’ve never wanted either of them like that,’ he said. In that, he was confident. ‘Kevin’s more to me than that. He’s my family, the only one I have. And sometimes I hate him a little bit,’ he added thoughtfully, making Jeremy laugh.

‘What about Neil?’

Jean shook his head. ‘He’s too small,’ he said, and Jeremy laughed again.

‘Such high standards,’ he commented. ‘So who is good enough for you, Jean?’

Jean just shrugged, still amused because they were joking around and the conversation felt nice and normal and safe again. ‘I’ve never really looked at anyone like that before,’ he confessed. ‘What would have been the point? Kevin and Neil took up all my time. And everyone in here knows we’re not like them.’

Jeremy’s expression softened. ‘You’re not as strange as you think you are,’ he said.

Jean glanced away. ‘To you, maybe.’

‘Yes. To me.’

Jean looked back quickly, but Jeremy’s eyes were fixed on something else. Distracted, Jean’s eyes trailed down the soft curve of Jeremy’s neck and the hard lines of his chest and stomach. He was thin, but still strong. Despite their difference in size, Jean thought Jeremy might be a good match for him, physically. In his mind’s eye, he seized them up together, comparing, wondering what Jeremy might look like underneath his clothes. His face grew warm as he realised what he was doing, and he looked away, trying to banish the thoughts.

There was no point to such thoughts. Jean tried to look in that direction and simply couldn’t see a way forward.

Jeremy remembered then that they had been going to talk about some history, and Jean leaned forward eagerly to listen to Jeremy’s stories about the country of his birth. France was so abstract to him that he could not conceptualise where or what it might be. He had never been outside the walls of this estate - the furthest he had ever glimpsed was a distant horizon when he’d been standing on top of the barn roof to unclog the gutters. The sun had been going down, and the glare had partially blinded him, but it had given him some idea as to how big _out there_ was.

Jeremy admitted he didn’t know much, but told him what he knew. None of it meant anything to Jean - croissants and the Eiffel Tower and a palace at Versailles and many, many wars. It sounded like his place of birth had a long, bloody history.

‘I’ll get you a book on it,’ Jeremy promised, after he struggled in vain to remember some other little bit of information. Despite his lack of comprehension, Jean hoarded them greedily.

‘You’ll have to read it to me,’ Jean added, deadpan.

Jeremy grinned. ‘I’d be delighted to,’ he said. He always sounded so sincere.

Jean had gotten up to stretch his legs while Jeremy talked. He wasn’t used to spending so long in one position, and got restless very easily. It had distracted Jeremy initially, but he was used to it by now, and didn’t mind talking while Jean paced or stretched.

It had gotten very late, once again. ‘How do you always know?’ Jeremy demanded. Jean just shrugged. There were no other ways to tell time in here other than simply sensing it.

They lingered at the door, mainly because Jean as always didn’t want to leave, and because he sensed Jeremy had something he wanted to say.

‘Jean,’ he said, after a few moments of careful silence. ‘I know we kind of finished with this issue but I just wanted to say one more thing about it.’

He waited, as though for permission, until Jean nodded with half a smile. He tried to smile more for Jeremy, because it always brightened him so much.

Jeremy matched it with a smile of his own. Then he said, ‘I know you have a very deep bond with Kevin. And after all you’ve been through together, I truly cannot believe that it will suffer even the tiniest bit from this thing with Neil. But …’

He paused, as though summoning his courage. Jean blinked in surprise; he thought he was the only one who had to do that.

‘I’m just saying, if you’re worried about being alone on the outside … well, you don’t have to be,’ he said, a touch awkwardly. ‘I mean, if you don’t want to be. I was hoping that - well, that you and I could stay friends. I mean, if you wanted to stay with me - with our unit, I mean - you definitely can. Abby would love to have someone else with your knack for first aid around. Aaron helps her out too, but he’s always off on smuggling runs. You could really do some good out there, and …’

He paused, and took a breath. Jean’s heart was beating rather painfully in his chest.

‘I’m just saying,’ he began again, slowly. ‘I think it would be really great if you stuck around. With … with me. I know we don’t have the same bond as you and Kevin do, and I don’t mean as much to you, and maybe if he wanted to go somewhere else you’d prefer to go with him, and of course that’s ok, I completely get that, but if you _did_ want to stay where I am then I’d really - I’d really like that - ‘

Jean was no good with words. Anything he had to say here would fall flat, and come out sounding different than how he’d meant it in his head.

Jeremy talked with his hands, so it was easy to reach out and catch one. Wordless, Jean brought it to his chest, right over his heart, and pressed it there. Jeremy’s hand was soft and warm in his own, his dry, callused fingers wrapping around Jean’s as his eyes widened in surprise.

Jeremy cleared his throat a little, like his own words were stuck behind it. But nothing came out, so he just stared at Jean. Jean felt like something was wrapping around them and this little moment; something soft and careful, and very private. This moment was his, he realised. His and Jeremy’s. This belonged to them.

His heartbeat quickened, and Jeremy felt it beneath his hand. He stepped a little closer, right into Jean’s space. Jean wanted to tell him he would stay. He still had so much to learn about the world, and who else could teach him without making him feel small and stupid?

But that wasn’t the reason. That was only a tiny part of why he liked being down here, why he liked Jeremy so much. Jean felt like he’d been ignoring it, or just missing it, ever since he’d first met Jeremy’s eyes and felt safe.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Jeremy’s mouth again. Jeremy was looking right back at him and Jean saw something secret inside himself mirrored back at him in Jeremy’s eyes. It started him so badly he dropped Jeremy’s hand.

‘Tomorrow night,’ he blurted out. ‘The rally - upstairs. I’ll come get you, ok?’

Jeremy looked startled, and took an automatic step back as Jean did. ‘Jean - ‘

‘I should sleep.’ That was all Jean could say. He longed to look back just one more time at Jeremy, but something was loose and rattling around inside him, something that had been disturbed by Jeremy saying he wanted Jean around, and he had to leave. He couldn’t think about any of this with Jeremy standing right there, with his eye and his lips and everything so achingly familiar and close. Jean’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of his mouth.

‘Bye,’ called Jeremy, quietly. Jean screwed up his eyes against the sound as he turned his back and left.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's 100p gonna be an extra chapter i stg

Jean was extremely distracted for the entire day, but as predicted he was working back in the east wing again, and he didn’t have a second to spare for unnecessary thinking. Even so, he almost knocked his own thumb off with a hammer as he strayed into a daydream about Jeremy holding his hand. He even had the concrete memory to back it up.

The day couldn’t end fast enough. Despite the shock of the night before - the Kevin-and-Neil shock and then the shock of holding Jeremy’s hand and having feelings - Jean was eager for the night to come. The shocks had left him rattled, but they’d also left him thinking. Jean hadn’t had a single bit of variety in three years, and since Jeremy had arrived his life had felt like a whole series of digging around in one of Neil’s wall spaces and coming up with something new every time. Pre-war variety was unpleasant, and had come in the form of being harried by the guards and having no real work plan. Jean and Kevin had just done whatever they were told, avoided Riko when they could, and stolen time together whenever there was nothing currently happening. Not exactly the same thing.

Neil told him in quick, rushed whispers exactly the whos and whats and hows of the night to come. He’d done an extraordinary amount of careful planning for this one event, and Jean would have told him he was impressed if he thought it would mean anything to Neil. It was also hard to feel any kind of warmth towards Neil right now, since all he saw when he looked at him was Kevin’s hands in his hair and Neil’s mouth on Kevin’s neck. Jean wasn’t sure that he’d actually seen that, but his brain had been busy coming up with all sorts of ideas for what had happened after they’d left the sleeping hall.

But that was only when Neil was in his direct line of sight. The rest of the day, when he had energy to spare for thinking, Jean thought about the plan for tonight, and Jeremy. Jeremy, who liked him and seemed to want good things for him. Jean only had his relationship with Kevin to compare friendships to, and had almost no plan for how they should work, but Jeremy had asked him to stay with him, because that would make him happy. Jean’s presence, specifically, would make Jeremy happy. What a new world he’d stumbled into. Or had stumbled into him, more accurately.

Neil grew quieter as the day wore on. It might have been nerves, but it was more likely exhaustion. Neil had the same muscle tone as the rest of the other three-years, but he was small and tired and anxious, and Jean felt bad and let him lean on him for a bit while Jean smoothed cement over the last of the brick walls. The rooms were almost done, and Jean had a bad feeling about what they were planning on filling them with. The fighting beyond the walls was intensifying, with sounds of gunfire echoing sometimes when they were outdoors, and there were rumours that the estate would be taking a more active role in the war. Neil thought they were going to go from supplying food and shelter to supplying and storing weapons, maybe even soldiers.

‘Have to be gone before that happens,’ he muttered, reaching up to the wall. Jean watched him use a fingernail to trace a few lines into the still-drying cement.

‘What’s that?’

‘My initials,’ Neil replied, but Jean realised he’d already known that. He recognised the J from his own name, and it sounded like the way Neil’s last name started. The N looked like his own M. Jean was quite pleased at how he’d figured that out.

‘It doesn’t mean anything in here,’ Neil said quietly. ‘My name. We’re all just numbers to them.’

As someone who had had a number on his face all his life, this wasn’t big news to Jean. He was quite accustomed to being one digit of many. But clearly this was an issue for Neil. He reached up to touch his own number. Jean forgot he wore it, but Neil never did.

‘Historically, being numbered like cattle is never good,’ Neil said. ‘Bad things happen.’

 _Bad things happen_. Neil sounded haunted. Jean watched him uneasily all the way down to dinner. Getting out of here meant everything to Neil; Jean hadn’t really appreciated that until now, maybe because he’d never had a taste of what he’d been missing. This wasn’t Neil’s home, this wasn’t where he came from. Jean had been shaped and created here, but Neil hadn’t, and he never learned to fit into any of its patterns. Jean wondered if he would face the same sort of challenges out there, where nothing was the same.

Kevin was late for dinner, and barely made it in time to snatch a few bites. Jean had waited with Neil out of sympathy for his nerves and his own mild anxiety over what was going on with Kevin. When he finally turned up he was pale and shaken, but refused to talk about it. Jean, however, was quite capable of drawing his own conclusions.

Kevin served the main house, along with a few others, because that was where Riko liked him to be. Jean had only ever been a tool, something to be used. Jean had long ago stopped giving Riko the pained responses he sought, so he’d been shunted off down here to work amongst the rest of them. But Kevin, with his precise movements and intelligence and eye for detail, was made to walk softly above ground, waiting on the Moriyamas liked a trained animal. He once told Jean he was not permitted to speak up there, only when asked a direct question, which was never. Jean didn’t know how often he had to interact with Riko but he could usually make a good guess, based on Kevin’s mood at the end of the day.

Once he had ascertained that Kevin was physically ok, Jean gathered his stolen food and left him in Neil’s hands. He wasn’t really comfortable being around the two of them with this new knowledge of their intimacy. So he sought out the only person who didn’t make him feel out of place.

Jeremy was, as usual, visibly pleased to see him. Any awkwardness from Jean’s abrupt exit the night before was smoothed over quickly and easily.

‘I’m sorry if I put you under any pressure,’ Jeremy said calmly, when they were settled. ‘I know this is hard for you, and I don’t want to make it any harder. I was just trying to be honest with you.’

Jean understood that, and he believed him. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Jeremy was an honest person. Jeremy could be trusted.

And that was that. They moved on. Jeremy was a little nervous about his part in the evening’s activities, but not for the reason Jean thought he _should_ be nervous.

‘I’ve never done public speaking before,’ he said, fingers frantically braiding the loose threads of his blanket. ‘What if they don’t buy it?’

Jean, who was more concerned about getting caught and shot, wasn’t sure what he could say here that would help. ‘Just tell it like it is,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Outside good, inside bad.’

‘The war is out there,’ Jeremy said, rubbing his chin. ‘Some people are still trying to escape it. There’s routine in here, and stability.’

Only if you can keep up, Jean thought. He didn’t tell Jeremy about the woman who’d been shot this morning, or the two men last week. Jean hadn’t even noticed their low count. Maybe the guards really were just making it all up.

‘People aren’t happy in here,’ Jean said. ‘If that’s what you’re worried about.’

Jeremy looked at him, his brown eye warm and concerned. ‘I know,’ he said, softly. ‘But fear of the unknown can sometimes be worse.’

There was no barb in his words, but they hit home nonetheless. Jean was still wrestling with his own feelings on the subject, so he switched it quickly. ‘We were building in the east wing again today.’

‘Any more of an idea what it might be for?’ asked Jeremy. He had people to report back to; if the Moriyamas were entering the war in a bigger way, Jeremy said they would want to know about it.

Jean shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There’s no furniture. No beds or anything. Looks like storage to me.’

He paused, and Jeremy noted it. ‘What do you think?’

Jean weighed his words before speaking them. ‘Storage,’ he said. ‘But for people. They feel like … cells.’

Jeremy frowned, mulling this over. ‘Cells,’ he repeated.

‘It felt like being in solitary,’ Jean added.

‘Prisoners, maybe,’ Jeremy murmured. ‘Or troops. Have you ever seen soldiers here before? People in uniforms with guns?’

Jean shook his head. ‘Just the guards,’ he said.

Jeremy nodded, still thinking. ‘Well, it’s good to know,’ he said, after a few moments. ‘There are people who’ll want to talk to you after all this. Outside, I mean.’

‘People?’

‘Generals. Self-proclaimed generals, I should say. I guess a few were in the actual army, but they’re up at Command. The militia leaders are all civilian-led, a few ex-cops, stuff like that. Our commander was a hockey coach,’ he joked. ‘We call him Coach, but just behind his back.’

Jean mulled this over. ‘Are they good people?’ he asked. What he meant was, are they like you?

Jeremy nodded. ‘They are,’ he said, sincerely. ‘They’ve got their issues, just like the rest of us, and they’ve seen some shit that’s turned them a little hard. But they’re the good guys.’ He paused, as a thought passed through his mind. ‘It’s strange to say, but I think they’ve given up on this country,’ he said. ‘The middle states are lost to us. The north east is the only place where we hold ground. California still stands but … we’ll never get back there now.’

Jean looked at him carefully. ‘That’s your home,’ he remembered.

Jeremy smiled. ‘It’s just where I’m from,’ he said. ‘Home is where my people are.’

Jean had never thought of it like that before.

The meeting was to take place after lights out, so Jean waited downstairs with Jeremy again. Katelyn’s sleeping hall was furthest from the guard barracks. It was also the smallest and newest, with thick walls and a solid door. Katelyn, who had graduated from the Jean Moreau school of lock-picking, had agreed to stand watch. As she pointed out, she hardly needed to attend. 

The digging would continue far beneath their feet. Nicky had expressed a desire to go down and help, but for the first time in a long while, Jean, Kevin and Neil had been united in their strong, firm disapproval of this idea. So it would just be the twins, making do as best they could.

Jean had brought one of Kevin’s uniforms for Jeremy, folded up and smuggled under his own. Kevin had a few inches on Jeremy, but it was the best fit they could come up with.

‘The only other option was Katelyn,’ Jean told him frankly, as Jeremy zipped it up over his clothes. He had to roll up the pants and sleeves a bit, and his shoulders were narrower than Kevin’s, but it would do. Jean surveyed him, and had to smother a surprising flicker of panic. Jeremy didn’t belong in one of these uniforms. Seeing him wear one felt very wrong.

‘What? Not my colour?’ Jeremy asked, seeing the look on his face.

Jean just shrugged and looked away, unable to verbalise his discomfort.

Jeremy had made light of the danger involved in getting him upstairs, but when the time came Jean saw a shadow of nerves cross his face. Far from increasing his own nerves, he had to fight the impulse to tease him.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been caught yet and I don’t plan on starting tonight.’

‘How do you know what time it is?’ Jeremy asked, suddenly. ‘You don’t wear a watch and there are no clocks.’

‘What’s a clock?’

Jean actually did have a fair idea what a clock might be, but it was nicer to see Jeremy laugh.

‘I just know,’ he said. ‘I got a sense for it after a while, I guess. I’m usually right.’

Jeremy looked impressed, and Jean was surprised to feel himself puffing up a bit. _Stop it_ , he scolded himself. It was a ridiculous thing to take pride in.

Seriousness returned when they left the chamber. Jeremy had been down these halls before, to and from the bathroom, and Jean suspected he’d done some covert exploring too, but never with the intent of actually leaving. Jean made him walk a few feet behind him, and Jeremy made some joke about being a kid at a mall with his mother before Jean shushed him.

It was just after lights out, and the halls still echoed with activity. The guards did a few rounds before going to bed themselves, trying to catch any stragglers. Ever since Jean had come back from solitary the last time, there had been no escape activity. As far as Jean knew, there hadn’t been any trouble at all. This could work in their favour, or not. The guards might be suspicious at the lack of activity, and think that they were planning something - and they’d be right. However, Jean had been spending very little time with Kevin and Neil, and Kevin himself was looking decidedly worse for wear, thanks to his work upstairs. As the three ringleaders of the escape attempts, it might look to the guards like they were losing the will to try again.

But Jean hadn’t survived this long by being reckless. Neil and Kevin had, but only because of Jean. He led Jeremy slowly through the halls, taking longer and more circuitous routes to avoid any problematic areas. Luckily briefly abandoned them two floors down; Jean heard the heavy boots on the ground, and the echoing laughter of men, and pushed Jeremy in behind a staircase without a second thought, tucking himself in after him.

The guards, of course, paused at the foot of the stairs, having a brief argument. There were three of them - Jean knew each one of the intimately by just the sounds of their voices. Each had been with the estate for years, well before the war started. They were seasoned guards, and knew each hallway and chamber backwards and blindfolded. Jean did too, but he didn’t have a gun.

They waited, tucked close together in the gap beneath the stairs, trying to calm their breathing. Jean could feel Jeremy’s on his neck, and could almost feel his heart beating. They were very close indeed; almost no space at all between them. Jean could see all the tiny freckles on Jeremy’s face. He could see the patterns of colours in his eyes, and count his eyelashes one by one.

When the guards eventually moved off, Jean waited until they were entirely out of earshot. And then he waited a bit more.

‘We’re going to be late,’ Jeremy murmured. Jean watched his mouth move, and missed the words entirely.

‘Jean.’ Jeremy was saying his name, and there was a twinkle in his eyes but a definite flush on his cheeks. Jean finally remembered how to walk, and stepped back out of Jeremy’s space. He looked away from Jeremy so he wouldn’t have to see the delicate pink fade from his cheeks.

They made it to Katelyn’s sleeping hall with no trouble. Jean was actually deeply grateful for the encounter with the guard, because otherwise it would have felt too easy. But that had taken the edge off his nerves, and now he could more easily relax into the environment. Katelyn was watching the door, everyone was seated on the beds quietly, and there was a thrum of infectious anticipation when they edged forward to where Neil and Kevin were sitting. Despite his earlier nerves, Jeremy looked comfortable. He looked ready to speak. Jean found himself as eager as the next person to hear what he had to say.

Jeremy and Kevin had a quick conversation. Kevin looked anxious, and ready to snap. Jean held his breath, but whatever Jeremy was saying seemed to deflate him. Neil stood on the other side, arms folded, watching Kevin. He looked calm; he needed no talking down.

Somehow, the sight of them standing side by side, taking strength from each other, didn’t bother Jean like it had before. He looked at Jeremy instead, and found his own comfort there.

Neil gestured for Jeremy to go ahead. As Jeremy turned his calm, composed gaze on the room, Jean looked around to see who was there. Nicky and his group of friends were up front, looking eager. There were a few others Jean mentally ticked off in his head as being no surprises; most were new, within the last year, and still appalled at the shootings and the work and the painful, dreary monotony of it all. There were a few older faces too, men and women who retained a core of steel that had never been beaten out of them. There were even a few faces that surprised Jean. He did a quick count, and found that a good two thirds of everyone working and living down here were crammed into the room. No wonder it was so hard to breath.

The lights were low in the room, but it seemed like there was a spotlight on Jeremy. ‘Hi, everyone,’ he said, his voice strong and even. He’d been instructed to speak quietly, but still asked, ‘Can you all hear me?’

There was a tiny murmur of assent. Despite the excitement, everyone was keeping utterly silent.

‘My name is Jeremy Knox,’ he said. ‘I’m from Lancaster, California. I’ve been with the Palmetto Militia for two years.

‘I don’t know who knows what, so here are the facts: Moriyama Estate has been a target for the Militia for a while now. All of your hard work in here feeds the Government and their army. And this property is so big we think it will be used when the war front gets closer. Which it will, and soon. Things may start to change for the worse around here.

‘You’re being used against your will, to support a regime that broke the country,’ Jeremy went on. There was a quiet power in his voice now, growing in strength. ‘There’s a smugglers tunnel that runs beneath part of this estate and travels north. We have a base twenty miles out, but a halfway point at about 6 miles north of here. We’re widening the tunnels enough so that everyone can get out.’

This brought a flurry of questions, but the crowd were well-trained. No one spoke up, but hands shot into the air like lightning. Jeremy pointed at one, and the interrogation began.

‘When?’

‘Where will we go?’

‘How will we get down there without being caught?’

‘How big are the tunnels?’

‘What if they cave in?’

‘What’s out there for us?’

Jeremy answered everything patiently and calmly, but the last question made him pause. He considered the one who’d asked it - an older man, one of the three-years, with grey at his temples. Jean didn’t know him, but he felt like he did.

‘I can’t tell you that,’ Jeremy said. ‘It’s for you to decide. But I can tell you that we will help you to get as far away from here as you want. And I won’t lie to you - Command would greatly appreciate it if you would consider joining the Militia. There are still cities that need to be liberated. We’re not quite ready to give the country up just yet.’

He paused again, and looked around at everyone. ‘But this is your freedom,’ he said. ‘You can take it and do with it what you want. That’s what we’re fighting for, in the end. No one will be forced to join. The road to New York and beyond is open to you. There is life out there. There are places where people are living, not just surviving.’

Jeremy’s eyes flickered to Jean, who did his best to hold his gaze until Jeremy looked away again.

That seemed to silence most of the murmurs. The people would go away to talk amongst themselves now, and Jean thought he saw a lot more light and hope in the room than there had been before.

‘We’ll spread the word when it’s time to move,’ Neil said quickly. ‘But for now you should all be ready for a week’s time. That’s our projected timeline.’

Jean’s skin flashed cold with sudden fear. So soon? Regardless of what happened, life as he knew it was approaching its end.

Some more people wanted current events, and Jeremy was happy to fill them in. These people approached, while others left the room in quiet twos and threes, having heard enough to satisfy. Some others approached Kevin and Neil with some serious questions. Their intensity was met and matched. Jean looked back to Jeremy, whose face was lit up with enthusiasm for these people who wanted to know, who were excited to leave and be a part of it all. Jean was sad, for a moment, because he couldn’t share that with Jeremy. Not yet, anyway. For now, he could just watch.

More people were leaving. Most of those left were people who actually slept here, but Jean spotted a few still hanging around, talking in groups. They were discussing, deciding. Weighing up their options. Neil was looking tired but pleased, and Kevin was now talking with Jeremy, who appeared to be treating Kevin very gently indeed. As he watched, something Jeremy said made a smile flicker across Kevin’s face. That was more of an achievement than anything else he’d done tonight. Overall, it appeared to be a resounding success.

Jean glanced around again, thinking about taking Jeremy back downstairs soon. It had been good, but they didn’t want to push their luck.

Then Katelyn bolted into the room, eyes wide with panic, and Jean saw immediately that he’d already pushed it too far.

Jean didn’t say Jeremy’s name, though it was on the tip of his tongue. He reached out and snatched his good arm, not waiting to hear what Katelyn was going to say. ‘Under the bed,’ he said, voice as low and steady as he could make it with the fear rising up inside him like sick. Jeremy had a moment of confusion where he had to come down from wherever he’d been, but his militia training kicked in quickly. He dropped out of sight, and Jean couldn’t spare a second to glance down and check he was fully hidden, even though the urge was agonising.

Everyone left in the room snapped to their feet, fear back in place of excitement. Into the room marched a squad of guards. There was no curiosity or hostility on their faces. Instead there was blank indifference, a soldier’s mask. They were not searching, they had been sent to clear the path.

Through their ranks walked Riko Moriyama, star of all Jean’s nightmares. He felt Kevin go stiff beside him, and move a little closer. Neil stood on his other side, and Jean didn’t have to look at him to know he wore an expression of hostility bordering on insolence. Neil hated Riko far more than he feared him.

As Riko approached, lazily, glancing around, inspecting their pitiful existence, Jean’s brain frantically ran through the reasons behind this visit to distract from speculating on what was now to come. Someone had gotten cold feet and ratted them out. A guard had overheard them - always possible. They’d been too loud, sent home too many groups at once. Had Kevin let something slip while upstairs, serving Riko? Or had Riko simply watched him closely and seen enough to guess? No one could read Kevin like Riko could, not even Jean. When they were younger, Kevin had once fearfully admitted that he thought Riko could read his mind. Jean felt Kevin tremble beside him, and knew that the fear had never really left him.

‘So, is someone going to fill me in?’ asked Riko, casually. Kevin wasn’t the only one to flinch at his voice, low and unassuming as it was.

No one spoke. Riko raised an eyebrow.

‘No? Oh, come on now. Clearly I missed the meeting. Someone has to catch me up.’

Again, silence. Everyone measured and counted their breaths, wondering if their time was approaching. Riko rarely ventured downstairs. Jean could count his sudden appearances on one hand. But everyone knew who he was. Everyone feared him, as they should.

Riko’s eyes zeroed in on the trio in front of him. Of course he wouldn’t be looking at anyone else when they were in the room. He advanced, slowly, letting their fear build. Everything he did was done to inspire pain and discomfort in others. He’d probably planned this encounter down to the second. He’d relive it later, finding pleasure in it as only a monster could.

‘Kevin,’ he said, slowly. ‘This isn’t your room.’

Kevin was standing directly under a lightbulb. It cast harsh shadows on Riko’s thin, pale face. Now that he was standing so close, Jean realised that Riko didn’t look well.

Kevin swallowed, eyes on the ground. Deference, at all times. Jean watched out of the corner of his eye as best he could, but his head too was bowed.

‘In fact, you’re all out of bed,’ drawled Riko, dragging it out. ‘Very naughty. What are we going to do about that?’

Jean could barely move, he was so tense. Kevin in the spotlight of Riko’s quietly furious gaze, Jeremy somewhere behind them, hidden. He felt like if he opened his mouth he’d throw up or scream.

Riko was still looking at Kevin expectantly. ‘Well?’

Kevin swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, voice barely a whisper. There was no excuse he could give that Riko would care about, so he didn’t bother.

‘Mm,’ Riko mused. ‘You’re sorry. That’s very interesting, Kevin. What are you sorry for?’

Jean’s shoulders braced for impact.

‘I’m sorry that there are people out of bed after lights out.’

The crack of Riko’s hand across Kevin’s face was louder than a gunshot. Everyone jumped, even Jean, who had been expecting it.

‘Why are they here, Kevin?’ Riko asked, his voice incredibly mild. He was just getting started. Cold sweat ran down Jean’s back. If Riko started hurting Kevin, he could very well give it all up. Kevin had been cracked and fractured for years.

‘We were just - talking,’ Kevin stammered. His whole body was curled in on itself. ‘We forgot the time. I swear, we weren’t doing anything.’

Riko’s hand drew back again, and Jean managed to catch a glimpse of Neil on Kevin’s other side. His face was drawn in pure fury. Already his mouth was open, his body turned towards Riko. Jean saw what was going to happen very clearly. Neil would say something, or do something, and Riko would take very real delight in hurting him. He’d do it in a heartbeat. Neil meant absolutely nothing to him, but Kevin meant everything. Kevin was buried in Riko’s very being, something he could never let go of. Even after all these, Kevin was still his favourite plaything.

If Riko learned that Neil meant something to Kevin, he’d throw him solitary for the rest of his life. Maybe he’d let him out once a year, just to remind Kevin of what he’d lost, and to keep his eyes on Riko at all times. It would be the end of Neil, and very likely the end of Kevin too. And none of them would ever get out of here.

So Jean did what he had to do. It only took a brief second’s consideration. Then his hand shot out once more, this time grabbing Riko’s wrist as his hand flew towards Kevin’s face.

The shock in the room was like a physical slap to them all. Even Riko’s eyes widened. Jean heard Kevin groan quietly.

‘Jean,’ Riko breathed, like he’d almost forgotten he was there. ‘At last.’

Jean looked him in the eye, the most heinous crime. ’Don’t,’ he said, and sealed his fate.

With a flip of his wrist, Riko twisted Jean’s arm painfully away from him. Then he stepped in and kicked Jean’s legs out from underneath him. Jean hit the ground with a painful thud, and it began.

Jean knew he could not fight back. If he harmed Riko, he’d get a bullet. That’s what the guards were here for. Riko was slight, and small, and Jean was almost two people compared to him. But all he could do was curl up small and take the hits and the kicks. Riko grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face down on the cold, hard ground, almost re-breaking his nose. He punched him hard enough to loosen a tooth. He kicked him in the ribs until something cracked. Jean tried to bear it all, but eventually realised that the voice crying out in pain was his.

The guards were also there to stop Riko from going too far. When Riko went too wild he became a little unstable, and his family did not like him when he became unstable. They’d put measures in place a few years ago to stop him from accidentally killing anyone. Usually that just meant having someone around to lift him bodily from the person he was trying to murder and taking him away somewhere to cool off. That’s what happened now - one minute his hands were tearing at Jean, and the next he was gone. Jean vaguely heard him screaming at them all to get back to their rooms, and the quick hustle of feet as everyone fled. The light went off, bedsprings creaked, the door slammed.

The terror Riko inspired kept everyone firmly huddled on their beds. Several people were trying to smother their sobs, their trembling rattled the bed frames. Jean drifted in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, blood dripping from his mouth. Boots echoed outside, storming around for a few minutes, rattling doors and shouting orders. And then they were gone. There was no need to post a sterner guard on the doors; Jean knew they wouldn’t bother. Why would they? They’d already made their point.

Jean felt broken. He could still move, or at least twitch, all of his limbs, fingers and toes, but his breaths came in short, painful gasps, and he felt like he might be bleeding from multiple points. At least Riko hadn’t used any of his knives. Jean’s body was a map of tiny white scars from Riko’s knife phase.

He’d have to get up eventually. No one would be able to sleep with him lying there. If he passed out now he’d probably choke on his own blood. But the pain still roared through him, keeping him pinned down. Another minute, he thought. Just give me another minute.

Something was sliding across the floor. Jean froze, abruptly and painfully terrified again, until he felt the most gentle of touches on his torn skin, and heard his name whispered with reverence.

‘ _Jean.’_

He couldn’t respond- he’d bitten his tongue, and it was heavy and lifeless in his mouth. He tried to make a little noise to show he was alive, and Jeremy breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he heard it.

‘Oh, god,’ he whispered, kneeling beside him. ‘Come on, I have to get you out of here.’

No, _you_ have to get out of here, Jean wanted to say. Panic flared in him again; Jeremy couldn’t be caught here. It would be impossible to sneak back down in the morning, with guards everywhere, and even more on the alert after this incident. But his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, so he couldn’t tell Jeremy any of this.

Someone else slid to their knees beside Jean, and he felt the tickle of hair as Katelyn leaned over him.

‘Jean.’ Her voice was trembling, but she wasn’t crying.

‘We need to get him out of here,’ Jeremy said.

‘They’ve locked the door.’

‘Can’t you open it?’

Katelyn sounded on the verge of tears. ‘Yes - but they could still be out there! They’ll be listening for us - ’

‘We are not leaving him on this floor,’ Jeremy said, his voice tight and urgent. ‘I need to get a look at him. He’s bleeding - god, it feels like it's everywhere.’

‘The basement,’ Katelyn said, dropping her voice even lower so Jean could barely hear her. She leaned over his body to whisper to Jeremy. ‘Could you take him down there?’

‘No - it’s too far, we’d never make it. And he might not make it back up in time for morning count. I can’t tell time like he can, I wouldn’t know when to wake him up - ’

Jeremy could practically hear their brains spinning, trying to make something work. He tried to tell them to just leave him, but he was fast losing the battle with consciousness. He coughed some blood out of his mouth and prayed it was coming from his tongue or gums, and not his insides.

‘Can you help me get him to his bed?’ Jeremy was asking Katelyn. ‘Can you show me the way?’

‘I’ll carry him with you,’ Katelyn said, sounding scared but determined. ‘And - I can run upstairs to the bathrooms and get some towels - try to stop the bleeding.’

Jean missed Jeremy’s response, but wanted to tell them it was a bad idea. They were already risking so much - Katelyn running around in the middle of the night, and leaving Jeremy _alone_? It was exactly what he’d feared the most. But suddenly they were putting their hands under his arms and trying to pull him up, and the pain was so great he almost blacked out. All he could do was try to get his feet underneath him and put one in front of the other. He tried, he really did. He might have fallen a few times, but for the strength of his friends holding him upright. Jeremy held him tight while Katelyn picked the lock, and then began a journey down the hallway that was the longest and most painful of Jean’s life. All he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears and his friend’s heavy breathing on either side of him. Pain lanced through him from every angle, and his head felt like it was splitting apart. When the stopped for Katelyn to open the next door, his head lolled on to Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy’s arms held him so tightly, like he was trying to stop him from falling apart.

Inside, even Jean could sense the fear. No one said anything - no one even stirred - though none of them could have been anything but wide awake. Katelyn led the way to Jean’s bed, and Jean was dimly thankful that it was dark. He was still ashamed of this little space, even now, when he had so many other things to worry about.

They laid him gently down in the bed, Jean doing his best to help them even though he barely had any control over his body. Then Katelyn disappeared, pulling the door shut behind her, and it was just Jeremy, crouching on the far side of the bed and hidden from the door as best he could. He gripped Jean’s hand and rested his forehead on the bed. Jean could feel him trembling.

‘’S’ok,’ Jean mumbled, through his sore mouth. ‘You gotta go.’

Jeremy gave a great sniff, and let out a breath. ‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Katelyn will be back in a minute. We’ll fix you up, make you a bit more comfortable.’

Jean realised that there was absolutely no point in checking for breaks or internal bleeding, because there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it. Slowly, Jeremy ran his fingers over Jean’s body, touching him all over as he searched for where he was bleeding. In another scenario this would have been intimate, pleasurable even. Jean hated that this was how Jeremy had to touch him. Probing, fearful, searching for wounds. When he found one he whispered it to himself, feeling around for the blood flow, trying to gauge how bad it was. Jean thought most of it might be coming from his head; when Jeremy’s careful fingers found the wound above his eyebrow he tried to tell him that head wounds tended to bleed a lot, and it probably wasn’t as bad as it felt. But then Jeremy’s fingers slipped down and his hand cupped Jean’s cheek so gently. He was still shaking slightly. He brought his face close to Jean’s and whispered, ‘I’m so, so sorry, Jean. I should have stopped it. I shouldn’t have hidden.’

This was by far the stupidest thing Jeremy had ever said, and Jeremy was not a stupid man. Jean just chalked it up to the stress of the moment, and sighed. ‘No,’ he mumbled back. Best he could do.

Kevin and Neil had not said a word. Kevin had not even raised his head.

Jean let Jeremy stroke his face and hold his hand. His fingers were sticky with Jean’s blood, but Jean didn’t care. Jeremy whispered to him, little meaningless words about how Katelyn would be back any minute and everything would be fine. They were intended to comfort them both, and give them something to listen to other than the scared breathing of the bodies around them and the pained, ragged ones coming from Jean’s own mouth.

Katelyn did come back. She had a rushed, shaky conversation with Jeremy that Jean missed entirely, and something liquid passed between the two of them.

‘Jean,’ Jeremy whispered in his ear. ‘This is going to hurt.’

Then his hand pressed down over Jean’s mouth. It was the only warning he got before they splashed pure fire over his cuts. Disinfectant, he thought, through the haze of pain. His whole body stiffened up like a plank of wood as he tried not to cry out. He must be more cut up than he’d thought. He remembered that Riko wore a big ring with his family crest. Perhaps that had torn something.

And then the pain rose up again, merciless, and dragged him down.

 

Jean was dragged from sleep by Neil’s hands on his shoulders. The pain was so shocking all he could do was groan.

‘Get up,’ said Neil, voice sounding very distant.

When Jean managed to get his eyes open, he saw that the sleeping hall was empty.

‘I got you some breakfast,’ Neil said, holding out a small breakfast burrito. ‘Katelyn went down to Jeremy.’

 _Jeremy_.

‘Is he ok?’ Jean stammered, trying to speak around his swollen tongue and many, many bruises.

‘Katelyn got him down to the lower levels last night,’ Neil said, shortly. ‘Unless he managed to fall and hit his head between there and the boiler room, he’s fine.’

Neil had to help Jean sit up. He was incredibly sore, but the pain in his ribs had decreased, which meant he probably hadn’t broken anything. Maybe a few cracks.

‘Take these,’ Neil said, shoving some pills at him. ‘Two more at water break.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Jean, swallowing them dry with difficulty.

‘If it helps,’ added Neil, ‘Last night was still a success. If anything, Riko actually helped our cause.’

Jean glared at him. ‘Wow, I think my bruises just disappeared, Neil.’

Neil sighed. His face was usually so unreadable, but Jean thought he actually looked sad. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, quietly. ‘I know you did that for Kevin.’

‘I did it for both of you.’ Jean winced as he tried to stand up. Neil stepped back, one arm half outstretched if Jean needed to help, but he was ok. He was still in one piece. Jean saw that Katelyn and Jeremy had used strips of what looked like an old bedsheet to patch him up. It was wrapped around his hand and his arm, and he could feel it bound around his middle.

‘I know it’s Kevin you really care about,’ Neil said.

Jean blinked, and looked up at him. ‘It’s fine, I get it,’ Neil went on, with a little jerk of his head. ‘But … I care about him too. He’s all freaked out, Jean. You’re important to him.’

Jean grunted. ‘Not enough for him to actually be here.’

Neil’s expression hardened. ‘You know it’s not easy for him. He thought you wouldn’t want to see him.’

Jean blinked in confusion. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to see him?’

Neil stared at him for a moment, and then his face relaxed. ‘Ok,’ he said. ‘I’ll - never mind. Come on, we’ll be late for count.’

Walking was torture, the first of many the day would surely bring. Jean ate on the walk, feeling awful; he’d changed clothes but the blood was impossible to scrub off without water, and he didn’t have time. They had gotten the worst of it off his face last night, but he could still feel it in his hair and behind his ears. His body stung and throbbed, and he was brutally tired.

Kevin stiffened when they fell into line next to him. Neil stood on his other side; they were both wary of a second incident. Riko was capricious; Jean would put nothing past him.

As the numbers flashed on to the screen, Kevin whispered out of the corner of his mouth, ‘Are you ok?’

Jean fought not to roll his eyes. ‘I’m fine, Kevin. Thanks for asking.’

Kevin flinched, though Jean’s words were soft. He fidgeted next to him, which was highly uncharacteristic, until Jean finally reached out and caught his hand. It was more to stop him drawing attention to himself than anything else, but it seemed to make him deflate. The tension dropped out of his shoulders, and Jean felt a tug at his heart.

‘I’m ok,’ he said, quietly. He was still very annoyed with the pair of them - all their sneaking around and keeping secrets and getting him into trouble - but he couldn’t put this on Kevin’s shoulders too. He would never blame him for Riko.

Work was a feverish nightmare. Jean was sent to the east wing again, and if Katelyn hadn’t been there he probably would have fainted and gotten himself throw in solitary, or down a flight of stairs, or whatever the guards wanted to do to him. She kept bringing him water, even when the guards glared at her, and she propped him up against a wall whenever they were out of sight so he could catch his breath. He was so exhausted he didn’t fully see the toll the night had taken on Katelyn until he caught her staring at nothing, eyes wide, remembering something. Her eyes were bruises of colour on her face, and her hair was unclean. She looked like she’d slept through the morning routine too.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured to her, as the day finally drew to a close. His back almost ached worse than the rest of him. Even on a good day, this work felt like it took years off his life.

Katelyn gave him a tired smile. ‘I’m just glad you’re still standing,’ she said. ‘I felt like someone pulled the rug out from under me when you went down.’

‘What do you mean?’

Katelyn took his elbow gently as they went down the stairs. ‘You’re the only one with their head screwed on in here,’ she said, darkly. ‘You’re keeping everything together, Jean.’

Jean felt very skeptical about this, but didn’t have the energy or desire to argue with her.

Jean decided to skip dinner and take a long shower instead. Katelyn assured him that Jeremy had more than enough to eat, but that wasn’t what worried Jean. He needed to see him. Despite his exhaustion, Jean would never be able to sleep until he saw Jeremy.

Taking off the bandages stung, but nothing was bleeding. Alone in bathrooms, Jean stripped and turned a slow circle in front of the mirror, surveying the damage. It certainly looked worse than it was. Jean bruised very easily; his side looked like a thundercloud. He could almost see Riko’s bootprint. He had a nasty gash over his eyebrow too, along with a split lip, a black eye, a bruise on his jawline, and scrapes from Riko’s ring and finger nails all over his arms. All in all, not a near death experience, but certainly not pleasant.

There was a lot of blood to scrub off, but the hot water finally managed to loosen the knots in his muscles. Jean considered sitting down under the spray, but worried he might never get up again. He dried off at the slowest speed possible, and when he got back downstairs he found that Neil had left two more pills on his bed. Now that he wasn’t physically torturing himself with work, they might actually have an effect.

Real tiredness began to set in as Jean made his slow way downstairs. He barely had any appetite, leastways not for dry potato and soggy vegetables. He felt hammered, in body and soul. He, Kevin and Neil could have been long gone by now, Katelyn too. Instead, they’d had to risk Jeremy convincing all these other people to whom they owed nothing, and this was the result. He got his ass kicked, but if he went down to dinner he’d see them all sitting around, deliberating still.

Jeremy met him at the foot of the stairs to the basement. Technically guards still passed through here, so it should have been off limits, but Jean was not about to tell him off.

‘Let me help you,’ he said, his voice quiet and urgent, reaching up a hand for Jean as he stumbled down the stairs. Jean took his hand and let himself be led.

‘You’re exhausted,’ said Jeremy, once he’d gotten him under the light and had a look at him. ‘God, I can’t believe they made you work. They’ll work you all to death in here.’

There was a low, simmering anger in his voice that Jean hadn’t heard before. He blinked, trying to reconcile it with his furrowed brow and concerned eyes, and the way his hands were so gentle on him as he guided him down to sit on the well-folded blankets.

‘You shouldn’t have helped me last night,’ Jean chided him gently, because he simply had to say it. ‘You and Katelyn both. You put yourselves in danger. I would have passed out just fine right there on the ground.’

He would have said more, but Jeremy held up a hand. ‘I recognise that running around in the dark here was not an ideal situation,’ he said, his voice low. ‘But please don’t tell me I should have left you on the floor, bleeding. Don’t tell me that.’

There was no humour in his voice. Jeremy had to stop, eyes closed, to breath, as though the very idea required a strength to contemplate.

‘Ok,’ Jean replied, softly. He put his hand slowly on top of Jeremy’s, where it rested on his knee. ‘Thank you,’ he added, before moving his hand away. Then Jeremy’s eyes flew open, and Jean wished he hadn’t.

‘You didn’t eat,’ Jeremy guessed.

Jean shook his head. There was no point in denying it when Jeremy knew he’d have brought him food if he’d been anywhere near it.

‘That’s ok,’ Jeremy said, reaching behind him. ‘Laila’s been good to me.’

Jean was tired and sore and had very little appetite, but there was simply nothing he could do in the face of Jeremy sitting very close beside him and pressing little pieces of crumbly brown bread and butter into his hand and watching sternly until he ate it.

‘Renee loves to bake,’ Jeremy said. ‘She’s commandeered a kitchen back at base. Her baking is so good people go out of their way to scavenge ingredients for her. I even heard Coach give one team special permission to hunt down some vanilla essence. For now, it’s most just breads and scones. They make their way up and down the lines. Moral boosters, even if they do get a little stale.’

Jean had eaten far, far worse. The bread was soft and tasty with creamy butter, and easy to chew, and there were some orange segments for afterwards. He let Jeremy ramble nervously beside him as he quietly ate what was given to him, and then he took Jeremy’s hand and closed his eyes for a little while.

He did doze off, but not for long. When he woke up, Jeremy was pressed up against him and taking his whole weight. His hand was still resting in Jean’s, but his good arm was draped around his shoulders. The flash of intimacy and closeness was a little shocking, but Jean was literally too tired to react badly, like he had before.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Didn’t mean to sleep.’

But Jeremy just turned his head so his nose brushed Jean’s hair, and made a little noise in his throat. ‘You should sleep,’ he said. ‘I’ll wake you in a while, if you want to stay.’

Jean did want to stay, very badly. His head was resting on Jeremy’s shoulder, and it should have been uncomfortable but it wasn’t.

‘He couldn’t even look at me this morning,’ he said. His voice cracked halfway through.

Jeremy said nothing, but the hand around Jean’s shoulders came up to stroke his hair, very gently, like an absentminded gesture.

‘I used to protect him,’ Jean went on, mumbling to himself. ‘I always protected him. He won’t need me anymore out there.’

When Jeremy spoke, his words were muffled by Jean’s hair. ‘He’ll always need you.’

‘I don’t think he will.’

Jeremy’s fingers traced lightly through his hair, gentle over the sore spots. ‘Maybe you can find out who you are without him,’ he said. ‘You can just be Jean.’

Just be Jean? Who the hell was Jean without all this?

‘You can find out,’ Jeremy whispered again. His lips brushed the side Jean’s head. ‘I’ll help you.’

Something inside Jean ached painfully, and got worse when he thought of leaving Jeremy’s arms.

‘Can you help me tonight?’ he asked, hardly knowing what he was asking.

Jeremy tilted his head a little. ‘What will the guards think?’

‘That I crawled off and died somewhere, if they even notice at all.’

That won him a surprised little laugh. ‘Ok, then,’ Jeremy said, voice soft. ‘Stay here with me tonight. But only if you promise to sleep.’

‘What else would I be doing?’

Jean felt Jeremy’s smile brush the crown of his head. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Gossiping. Trashing the food. Complaining about crumbs, and how you’re treated like subhumans in here. The usual stuff.’

Jean had to laugh, even though it hurt. ‘What? No way. I don’t even notice the crumbs.’

Their bodies shook gently against each other in laughter, despite the ridiculousness of it all. Or maybe because of it. Jeremy’s hand had fallen from Jean’s hand and now hung to his left, his arm still propped across his shoulder. Jean wanted to reach up and take that one, too.

‘No digging tonight?’ Jean asked suddenly.

Jeremy shook his head. ‘No. Katelyn went back down last night after she helped me find my way home. She was pretty shaken up. She told me this morning that they’re nearly done. I think she’s going back down again tonight.’

Jean frowned. ‘When does she ever sleep?’

Jeremy made a little noise of amusement. ‘Actually, she spent last night asleep on a blanket down there. I think she just wanted to feel safe.’

‘She feels safe down there?’

Jeremy’s thumb brushed over Jean’s hand. ‘She feels safe with Aaron.’

Jean digested that quietly. Katelyn’s optimism and strength hadn’t failed once in the time that he’d known her, but even she needed to lean on someone. Jean almost laughed himself, as he was literally leaning on Jeremy right now. This, he realised, was not something he needed Kevin for. Kevin would be no good at this whole providing comfort thing.

Jeremy, on the other hand, was turning out to be more than adequate at it.

’Thank you for letting me stay,’ Jean said. ‘And for saving me. And … for saving me again.’

Jeremy made a little noise of disagreement. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. Last night doesn’t count.’

‘I wasn’t talking about that.’

Jeremy’s thumb, which had been steadily brushing back and forth over Jean’s skin, paused.

‘What were you talking about?’

Jean took a breath, and turned his head. Jeremy pulled back just enough to give room - but only just.

‘When we get out of here,’ Jean said slowly. ‘Can I still stay with you?’

Jeremy’s lips trembled, just for a second. He blinked a few times, glanced away quickly, then back at Jean. ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice sounding a lot steadier than his expression looked. ‘Of course. If that’s what you want.’

Right now, it was all Jean wanted.

Jeremy showed Jean how to position each blanket for maximum comfort. There wasn’t a lot of space, but neither of them considered that problematic enough to mention. Then Jeremy got up and switched off the light by gently twisting the lightbulb without letting it fall out of the ceiling, and when he returned Jean reached out and pulled him down beside him.

It was cosier than Jean had believed it could be, considering they were lying on the ground. ‘I’ve softened it up for you,’ Jeremy joked.

Despite that, Jean found it hard to get comfortable. His body was just so sore. And now that he was lying down in the quiet, all he could do was think about it.

‘How are you feeling?’

Jean bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll stop fidgeting.’

Jeremy laughed. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. Fidget away, my dear. I was just inquiring after your wellbeing.’

Jean couldn’t help smiling. Jeremy had such a funny way of talking sometimes.

‘I’m sore,’ he said, admitted. ‘My tooth is loose.’

‘Your tooth?’ Jeremy gasped quietly, but Jean knew him well enough by now to know he was being playful. ‘Which one?’

Jean counted with his tongue. ‘Third from the back.’

‘Top or bottom?’

‘Top.’

‘Figures,’ Jeremy murmured.

The funny note in Jeremy’s voice made Jean laugh, and Jeremy laughed back, and even though it hurt his ribs and his chest and pretty much everything else Jean laughed along with him.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ Jean asked, after they’d calmed down. Maybe it was the pain or the laughter, but something felt loose in Jean’s chest.

‘Yes you may,’ Jeremy said, formally.

Jean tugged on the end of his sleeves, wondering how to phrase it. ‘I know what to do in here,’ he said. ‘But … what will I do out there?’

There was a soft rustle as Jeremy rolled over on to his side. ‘Does this mean you’re thinking about it now?’

Jean wasn’t thinking about much of anything, really. ‘Somewhere between tasting chocolate for the first time and getting my ass kicked, I started to think about it,’ he said. His arm drifted over until he could nudge Jeremy’s arm with his fingertips. ‘So?’

Jeremy made a thoughtful little sound and hmm’d for a few moments, until Jean thought he’d say there was nothing at all Jean could possibly do out there without having all the “out there” life experience that everyone else had.

‘So, I’ve thought about it,’ Jeremy said at last. ‘And based on my careful evaluation of the situation, I conclude that you can do just about anything you want out there.’

‘I - what?’

Jeremy’s hand found Jean’s, still resting on his arm. ‘I know you think the world sounds scary and complicated,’ he said, softly. ‘And maybe it was before. But honestly, we’re all still trying to figure it out right now. Nothing is the way it used to be. Everyone’s still trying to figure out there place in it. I’ve got a friend who was a customer service representative before all this. He basically listened to people shout about problems with their shopping all day, then apologised and offered them gift cards. Now he’s learning how to grow vegetables.’

‘I can do that,’ Jean said, quietly.

Jeremy gave his arm a little squeeze. ‘Yeah, you can. And you can build and cook and clean and work with animals, and you’re no stranger to guns or guards. This war won’t phase you. Nothing out there will.’

Jean shifted, thinking. ‘But all those things you and your friends were talking about.’

Jeremy made a dismissive noise. ‘Relics of the past,’ he said. ‘Those are just our stories, Jean. Yeah, there might be some things you don’t get, references or whatever. I can explain them to you. Our jokes aren’t that funny, anyway.’

That made sense, Jean supposed.

‘Oh, and I forgot the most obvious thing,’ Jeremy said. ‘Our doctor, Abby. She’s always recruiting, but all she finds are med students who are more used to looking at broken bones in their books, not on the table in front of them. You’ve got more life experience than all of them put together. She’ll snap you up.’

Jean didn’t know about that. Surely there were other people far better suited to all of that than him. He wouldn’t know the first thing about it.

‘And she’ll teach you,’ Jeremy added, reading Jean’s mind. ‘She’s good at that. Even taught me a thing or too.’

There was a pause as each of them thought about it.

‘You’re going to be amazing, Jean,’ Jeremy said, softly. ‘Really. How many times do I have to tell you?’

He didn’t sound annoyed. There was always a smile in his voice in moments like this, when they were quiet and close together.

‘Just once more,’ Jean replied, with a smile of his own, though he knew Jeremy couldn’t see it.

After a few minutes, Jeremy spoke again. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘It’s only fair.’

‘Have you ever kissed anyone?’

It was definitely not the question Jean had been expecting.

‘I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.’ Jeremy sounded embarrassed, and took his hand away. Jean almost lunged to pull him back.

‘No, it’s ok,’ he said, hurriedly. ‘I just wasn’t expecting that.’

Jeremy settled, but didn’t repeat the question.

‘And no, I haven’t,’ Jean added.

‘Oh.’

‘It’s not that I didn’t want to,’ Jean reasoned. ‘The opportunity just never presented itself.’

Jeremy made a little murmur of sympathy.

‘I’m ok,’ Jean said, dryly. ‘I survived without kissing, somehow.’ And then, trying to lighten the mood, he asked, ‘Have _you_ ever kissed anyone?’

Jeremy snorted, as Jean had intended, and it brought back that light feeling in his chest again. ‘I have, yes.’

‘Mhm. Which kiss was your favourite?’

Jeremy laughed, and his hand found Jean’s arm again, and Jean began to settle down.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, pretending to think seriously. ‘It’s a tie. The first contender is Alice Adler, fifth grade, behind the dumpster at school.’

‘How romantic.’

‘See, when you say it like that in your accent it _does_ sound romantic,’ Jeremy laughed. ‘No, I mean, we were ten. But it was my first kiss, and she was very pretty, and she definitely knew what she was doing.’

‘What happened to her?’

Jeremy sighed. ‘Her parents got a divorce and she moved to Wisconsin.’

‘Tragic.’

‘Missed opportunity,’ Jeremy agreed.

‘And the other?’ Jean prompted him, very much wanting to hear about it. Maybe he would learn something about kissing, and Jeremy.

Jeremy shifted a little, rolling over on to his back, and cleared his throat. ‘The other was at a charity fundraiser gig my friends were throwing. I was helping them sell t-shirts, CDs, stuff like that. And somewhere during the night I found myself in a dark corner with Henry, the camera guy.’

Jean waited, and then waited some more, and then the penny dropped.

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

A strange heat was rising up in Jean’s chest. The boiler was hot, far too hot to sleep beside. He had a wild thought about getting up and going back upstairs were it was colder, but one turn of his head and he caught the faint scent of Jeremy’s skin and hair, and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Jean stared up at the ceiling. ‘I really did miss out on a lot,’ he said.

Jeremy stroked his arm slowly. ‘You still have time,’ he said. ‘You’re not done yet.’

Jean sighed, thinking about how much he had to catch up on. He wondered how much of this he would take with, unwillingly though it may be. These walls felt so close sometimes he couldn’t believe he’d ever fully escape them.

‘Are you ok?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean almost said yes, but then decided to be honest. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But I will be.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I mention this was a slow burn


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I won't edit the chapter numbers anymore lol this is the penultimate one!!! Not quite as long but it just had to end where it ends

Jean woke up several times during the night, heart pounding. The unfamiliar setting disturbed him, as did the lack of an entire room full of other people breathing. Each time it took him a few moments to remember where he was, and even longer for his heart to slow. He learned to start looking over at Jeremy, who was curled up small beside him, breathing slowly. His surroundings weren’t familiar, but Jeremy was.

When he woke up again he wasn’t entirely sure how close to lights on it was, so he crept out and made his way down to the basement stairwell to listen. There was some movement from above, but not much. Probably not enough time to go back to sleep. Feeling regretful, Jean returned to the boiler room to say goodbye to Jeremy, only to find him still asleep.

Frowning, he knelt down beside him, wondering if he should wake him up. Technically there was nothing to wake him for, but he still felt an impulse say goodbye.

He leaned down a little further, trying to get a sense of how deeply Jeremy was asleep.

As it turned out, the answer was not very.

Jeremy’s eyes snapped open. Jean, startled, almost toppled over.

‘Hello?’ Jeremy looked slightly confused and sleepy until his brain caught up. ‘Oh! You slept here, I forgot.’

He had a warm smile as he helped Jean back into a sitting position. To Jean’s surprise, his hands rested on his shoulder and leg for a few moments, sort of petting him absentmindedly. Jean barely had time to appreciate how nice this felt before Jeremy woke up properly.

‘Sorry,’ he said, removing his hands, and then adding quickly, ‘How do you feel?’

Jean felt horrible, but there was no reason to tell Jeremy that. ‘Better,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ain’t no thing,’ Jeremy yawned, with a little wave of his hands. ‘It was nice. I used to live alone, but these last few years I got real used to sleeping like 3 or 4 in a room with the Militia. When we went out on smuggling jobs we’d be gone for a few days at a time. Just curl up like puppies to keep warm, wherever we could.’

Jean nodded. ‘It was very strange, not having so many around.’

‘Yeah, I heard you wake up a few times.’

‘I didn’t mean to disturb - ’

‘No, no you didn’t.’ Jeremy’s hand automatically shot out, touching his leg, seeking to reassure. ‘Don’t apologise.’

Jean wished, desperately, that he could figure out what to say specifically to make Jeremy touch him like that again, more often.

When he got upstairs, Jean discovered that he had misjudged the time slightly. His sleeping hall was unlocked, but the inhabitants were still dragging themselves out of bed. Jean only narrowed avoided getting spotted by the guard, retreating down the hall with the keys. Jean, who was sporting a slight limp from his bruised ribs, was not as stealthy as he usually was, but managed to duck inside before the guard turned around.

Usually people ignored him, like they ignored everyone so early in the morning. But as he made his way down the aisles towards his bed he found that more than one person looked up, deliberately meeting his eye. There was a kind of solidarity on their faces, a grim recognition. Jean didn't know what to do about it, and was honestly too sore to bother.

As soon as Kevin spotted him, he jolted upright like he’d been electrocuted.

‘Where were you?’ he hissed, darting forward and grabbing Jean’s shoulder. Jean shook him off immediately because it hurt; Kevin’s hand had gripped a fresh bruise. Hurt flashed across his face, and Jean opened his mouth to explain, but Kevin got there first.

‘We had no idea where you were,’ he snapped. ‘You could have - been dead in a corner or something. Katelyn said you almost passed out at work.’

Neil stood behind him, looking tense. Jean bristled.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, shortly. _No thanks to you_ , he almost added.

Kevin seemed to hear the unspoken in his voice. ‘You said you weren’t mad,’ he said, eyes narrowing. ‘You said.’

Jean felt his temper rising. ‘I said I was _ok_. Don’t worry, I didn’t die in a corner. You can relax.’

‘But - ‘

‘I have to eat,’ Jean interrupted. He moved passed Kevin to quickly change his clothes. ‘Hope it was worth it, Kevin.’

Kevin didn’t move. ‘What?’

Jean didn’t turn around. He dug his spare uniform and underclothes out of his trunk and did his best to change. His battered body didn’t want to move in the ways he needed it to, so the going was slow. He could feel Kevin’s eyes on him as his skin became exposed.

Aware of those still milling around and getting dressed, Jean switched to French. ‘All of these people,’ he said. ‘Whatever reason you have for making sure every one of them has a chance to consider what we’re risking to get them out, I hope it’s worth it.’

He pulled his undershirt on, covering up the worst of his bruises, and stepped into his overalls. By the time he had them zipped up and covering the rest of himself, Kevin was glowering at him.

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ he repeated.

‘You keep saying that,’ Jean said. ‘As though I don’t know you better. You don’t give a fuck about any of them. But you're fine with me getting beaten up to protect them.’

‘That wasn’t - ‘

Jean knew he was being unfair, but he ploughed on regardless. ‘And you’re sneaking around with Neil, having - having sex, not telling me any of it, as though I don’t deserve to know.’

Kevin flushed, but Neil only looked resigned. He tried to step in, but Jean wasn’t done.

‘Even though Neil has a - some sort of _thing_ with Andrew, and it’s so obvious but you don’t care. Whatever. I don’t deserve to know any of those parts of your life, right? If you want to be secretive and shut me out, fine. But I deserve to know what’s going on in your head when I’m almost getting mine kicked in because of it. I never wanted that fucking meeting. These people can rot in here for all I care.’

Jean knew Jeremy would disapprove of his words; he could almost see him frowning. Getting everyone out _was_ the right thing to do, even if you didn’t care about any of them. It meant less people to work for the Moriyama’s, less people helping the wrong side of the war effort. Jean didn’t know enough about the war to pick a side, but he knew he’d be on whichever side Jeremy was.

But his words hit all their intended targets. Kevin’s colour was high, and he was shaking.

‘I have to,’ he croaked.

Jean blinked, realising he had finally unlocked something.

‘Kevin,’ Neil began, putting a hand on his arm, but Kevin shook him off. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘This was your idea in the first place. Do what you want.’ To Jean, he added, ‘And you don’t know the first thing about how I feel about either of them, so shut the fuck up.’

He left, shouldering past the last few curious onlookers.

Jean turned back to Kevin. ‘Well?’

Kevin swallowed. He glanced over his shoulder at the stragglers, finally drifting out the door now that the drama seemed to be over. ‘Come here,’ Kevin said, voice low.

He led Jean over to his bed, and lifted up the mattress. Jean’s eyes widened as Kevin removed a small square of paper, which turned out to be multiple papers folded over and in on themselves to make a tight little bundle. Kevin unfolded them carefully, smoothing out the creases, and handed them to Jean.

Jean didn’t even try to make sense of the slanted letters printed in blue ink over the pages. ‘What are these?’ he demanded, looking at Kevin.

‘They’re from my father,’ Kevin replied, softly, turning Jean’s world on its head.

‘Your - what?’

Kevin took the letters back, and Jean saw something in his eyes he’d never seen before, and couldn’t identify.

‘They started coming about a year ago,’ he said. ‘Andrew brings them to me. He’s ... he's part of the Militia. A Commander. He’s been working on trying to bring down this estate ever since - well, ever since he discovered I was in here. He put it together from the twins’ reports.’

Jean hadn’t known the twins had been reporting on them to the Militia, but that definitely wasn’t the problem to focus on right now.

‘You can’t read these,’ Jean accused.

‘Neil reads them to me,’ Kevin said. ‘I had to ask someone, and he’s the only one I trusted. And he’s been teaching me. I can almost read them myself now.’

Something else they were doing in secret, off by themselves at night.

Stung, Jean said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Did he not deserve to learn how to read too?

Kevin squirmed. ‘I was going to,’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t even know if I wanted to reply at first. The first few letters were him just wanting to get to know me. I didn’t know how to feel.’

Jean just stared at him, mute. They’d always shared everything. If something like that had happened to him - if one of his mysterious parents, as unknown to him as Kevin’s had been, had come forward - he would have gone straight to Kevin.

‘And then - well, I started getting closer to Neil and … you know.’ Kevin shrugged miserably. ‘It became more than that. And you were always in solitary, and then Jeremy came along, and - ‘

‘And whose fault was that?’ Jean demanded, furiously. ‘So, were you two sneaking off at night, thinking up new plans to get me out of the way for a while so you could be together and read your letters and kiss?’

‘It was never like that!’ Kevin shouted. ‘How could you think I would do that to you?’

Jean didn’t really, deep down, but that was certainly what it felt like. ‘How could you keep these secrets from me?’ he shouted back. ‘How could you leave me alone?’

Kevin had no answer to that. He dropped his gaze, hands still clutching the letters from his father. From his _father_. After a few moments of hostile silence, Jean’s newfound curiosity won out.

‘What does he say?’ he asked, quietly.

Kevin looked up, confused, and Jean nodded at the letters. He held his body stiff and tense, his still-sore muscles screaming at him.

‘He - ‘ Kevin stopped, cleared his throat. ‘He says he wants to free everyone, and cripple the Moriyama war machine. The militia want everyone to be free, and maybe to join the fight. And he wants to know me.’

Kevin paused, fingers tracing a word on the pages absentmindedly. ‘He’s been asking me for months to work with the militia in opening the tunnels,’ he said, voice low. ‘But Neil and I - we weren’t ready. We wanted to try and get ourselves out first - us and you. The tunnel idea … getting everyone out at the same time … it just felt way too risky. Then all this happened and forced our hand. But I guess nothing else was working.’ He sighed, and looked Jean in the eye. ‘I really wasn’t keeping it from you deliberately. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make you feel …’

Left out, thought Jean. Alone. No parents coming for him. No one to kiss.

Jean felt a little ache in his chest, and he wished he could go to Jeremy.

‘Well, you did,’ Jean said, but the heat was gone out of his voice. When he looked at Kevin he felt hurt and jaded, but he also saw a man he would never get out from under his skin. He and Kevin were linked by something deeper than blood. And he did love him. Maybe one day he could love him only, and not desperately need him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kevin said. His eyes were sorrowful, and Jean knew it was real. ‘I didn’t mean for it to go this way.’

‘I know.’ Jean sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘So your father wants you to join the militia?’

Kevin shrugged. ‘He just wants me out,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to tell him about myself, but I never know what to say. Neil helped a bit with that. And ... I’ve told him all about you.’

Jean felt more and more like his future was being decided for him, just as it would be if he stayed in here.

There was a silence between them. Jean was aware they were going to be late for breakfast, but they weren’t done yet.

‘Were you with Jeremy last night?’

Jean nodded.

‘Did he … make you feel better?’

Jean glared. ‘None of your business.’

This coaxed a smile from Kevin. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You must be hungry. I know you skipped dinner again last night.’

‘Jeremy fed me,’ Jean said quietly, as they headed upstairs for a quick wash. ‘He has little, but he likes to share it.’

Kevin darted a glance at him. ‘Like you.’

Jean looked back. ‘I don’t have anything.’

Kevin held his gaze for a moment before looking away. ‘You do.’

They barely made breakfast, and had to head straight to count still eating. They slotted in next to Neil, and Jean hoped no one’s number was up this morning. He couldn’t stomach any more violence.

No one died on the steps, but violence came Jean’s way nonetheless. Over the next few days, the guards became uncharacteristically rough. Everyone picked up little bumps and knocks on a normal week, but the guards didn’t normally care enough to hurt them. Most were apathetic, almost casual. It took energy to bully and harass, and no one had much energy to spare in here, even the guards.

‘It’s like someone spiked their food,’ Neil grumbled, after getting a cuff around the head from a guard for nothing any of them could discern. They were working in the garden, weeding the crop beds under the hot sun. Jean had already been lashed twice for walking too near the guards. He didn’t even answer Neil, in case it would earn him a third.

Even Katelyn hadn’t escaped. She was not used to the violence, and it rattled her badly. Her nerves agitated the guards, and she was sporting a black eye as a result. It burned Jean’s blood every time he saw her.

When Jean appeared before Jeremy each evening, carrying food and sporting fresh bruises, he saw something darken in Jeremy’s gaze. It was in these moments that Jean saw Jeremy’s anger, and his fervour for the militia and their work. And he saw his compassion, too. He would take the food and lay it aside, and then he would reach out and touch Jean’s face very gently, smoothing over each new hurt until Jean forgot about it.

The aggression scared Jean. He feared that one of the guards would go too far. They would be punished for killing one of them without cause or permission, but not badly. Not so much that it wouldn’t be worth whatever perverse pleasure they derived from it.

But Jeremy’s careful, caring hands on his body every evening erased all of that. Sometimes there was a tremor in them, something uncertain flickering across Jeremy’s expression. Jean was too tired to analyse it. For his own part, he too felt some kind of uncertainty around Jeremy now. Kevin was the person he was closest to in the world, but Jean simply wasn’t used to being physically _close_. He’d been weak and tired the night he’d spent lying beside Jeremy, and not in full control of himself. Now, each night that he went downstairs and put himself into Jeremy’s hands, he had to confront the feelings that rioted inside his chest.

‘I think I know who Kevin’s father might be,’ Jeremy said one night.

Jean had of course told Jeremy all about Kevin and the letters. He’d wanted someone to help him make sense of it all, and Jeremy had done that wonderfully, of course. His calm head and cool logic helped Jean see that Kevin’s father appearing in his life had been something enormous, impossible to process quickly, and telling Jean made it even bigger, and more real. No matter what complicated manner of thinking Kevin had, Jean wasn’t angry at him any longer. He wasn’t even angry at Neil, though he would probably always feel vaguely annoyed at him. Kevin hadn’t meant to hurt Jean, and that was the important thing. He hadn’t lost him. They were still connected.

Tonight, they were sitting on the ground next to one another, their backs to the wall, arms pressed close. Jean inclined his head. ‘What? Who?’

‘A man in our garrison,’ Jeremy said. ‘We call him Coach. He recruited over half of us himself. He especially takes in people who have nowhere else to go, even if they seem sketchy. Lost causes and the like.’

‘You were a lost cause?’

Jeremy grinned at him. ‘Nope. Just very lucky.’

‘Kevin’s father,’ Jean mused. ‘Doesn’t seem real. What makes you think it’s this man?’

Jeremy shrugged. ‘Well, he’s been gung-ho about this place for a while. There have been other operations to liberate bigger estates than this, but he always zeroes right back in on these plans. And they’re … similar.’

‘In what way?’ Jean asked, curious. ‘Do they look alike?’

Jeremy shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Maybe something in the eyes … But they share a similar intensity, I think. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am.’

Jean couldn’t imagine anyone else being like Kevin. The concept of familial traits was utterly unknown to him, and intrigued him.

‘What about your parents?’ he asked Jeremy.

He’d thought he’d hit on a safe topic that would please Jeremy to talk about, but he’d misjudged. Jeremy’s face fell, although he tried to mask it. Jean’s heartbeat stuttered.

‘Oh - I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to - ‘

But Jeremy laid a hand on his. ‘No,’ he said, with a sad smile. ‘It’s ok. I just … if I don’t talk about it, sometimes I can forget that I don’t know where they are.’

Jean stayed silent, afraid to make another error and upset Jeremy further.

Jeremy’s fingers moved idly on the back of Jean’s hands. They traced up and down the veins that ended at the spaces between his fingers. It was a dizzyingly pleasant feeling, and Jean had to work hard to remain serious when all he wanted to do was tip his head back and close his eyes.

‘My father was never well, my whole life,’ Jeremy said. ‘He had trouble with alcohol. He wore my mother thin. And all my sisters wanted to do was get away. I wanted our family to stay together but … one by one, everyone just sort of left. My father would disappear for weeks at a time. Even my mother would be surprised when he’d turn up again. My sisters went to college as far away as they could, and stopped replying to my texts and calls. I was the only one who stayed near mom, in California. She moved up to Santa Clara, and I was about an hour away in San Francisco. I saw her every weekend, even when she claimed she was busy. I think she wished I’d stop showing up to remind her of the life she was trying to forget.’

He paused, and swallowed. His fingers stilled. Jean turned his hand over and took it in his own. It made his heart race to do it, pumping his body full of adrenaline for this one small action.

Jeremy squeezed his fingers with a small sigh. ‘Anyway, I was visiting Laila and Alvarez in Austin when everything kicked off. Tried my best to get out of Texas but the borders closed. Then it all went to hell, and the girls convinced me to go north with them. I don’t know where my sisters are. California still stands, but …’

Jean remembered what he’d said before. That he’d never get back there now. Jean thought about how he’d feel if something kept him and Kevin and Neil apart, and wondered if he understood family a little better than he’d thought.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Jeremy said. And he squeezed his hand again.

‘Did you ever know your parents?’ Jeremy asked him, after a while.

’No,’ Jean replied. ‘If I did know them, I have no memory.’

Jeremy didn’t press him further, only to mutter an apology. That was good. There was nothing more to say about it.

The next day, Jean caught a brutal blow from one of the guards. One minute he’d been standing there, holding his basket of apples and waiting to drop them off into the sorting bins, and the next he’d been sent sprawling by a hard fist into the side of his head. His ear tore and the apples went everywhere. He had to scramble around picking them up, ears ringing, blood dripping down his neck. He seemed to be getting it worse than the others, and it didn’t endear anyone to him. When he got back into line, dazed, everyone took a step away from him.

In fact, everyone was keeping their distance from everyone else. The guards seemed to be trying to break up any social groups. In the past, this wouldn’t have affected Jean half as much as it did now. But a few days of this treatment left Jean tired, despondent, and low.

‘Another bad day?’ asked Jeremy, sympathetically. He was the only one going down to the tunnel these nights. Everyone else was too exhausted, and too nervous of the guards to sneak out after bedtime.

Jean nodded, and sighed. He’d skipped dinner again, preferring whatever crumbs Jeremy would give him to being in the dining hall. He was exhausted, but food held little appeal for him. He knew he was growing thin.

‘It’s almost time,’ Jeremy said, softly. ‘The tunnel is nearly ready. This will be over soon.’

Jean just sighed again, and slid down against the wall. He didn’t even make it to the blankets. Jeremy knelt at his side, concerned. ‘Are you ok?’

Jean looked at him. ‘I’ve never been happy before,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know that until all of this started to happen.’

Jeremy's eyebrows pinched together. ‘Well, like I said, it’s almost over. Remember?’

The words meant nothing to Jean. The misery weighed on him, clouding his mind so that he couldn’t see a way to this future Jeremy claimed was waiting for him.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s just … this place is so fucking shit. I hate it. Every time I have to look at the walls or the floor or the guards or my bed it’s just - it’s like a weight, right here.’

He pressed his hand to his chest, rubbing it like he could dispel the heavy feeling.

Jeremy leaned forward, concerned. ‘What can I do?’

Jean huffed a tired, bitter laugh. ‘You?’

Jeremy, uncertainly, said, 'Yes.’

Jean hardly knew what to say. He threw up his hands, body full of pain and frustration and sadness. ‘Just - just - take me away from here, Jeremy. Take me anywhere.’

His hands dropped to his lap, useless; Jean clenched them to disguise their trembling.

Jeremy reached out a hand and gently uncurled Jean’s fingers.

Jean hung his head. Frustrated tears fell from his eyes and dripped quietly on to their hands.

‘I will,’ Jeremy said. His voice was low, and a little hoarse. ‘Anywhere you want, Jean. It’s going to be ok, I swear.’

Then he shuffled forward on his knees and took Jean’s face in his hands. Jean was forced to look into his eyes; they stared pleadingly back at him, warm and brown and beautiful.

‘I need you to hang in there,’ he said. ‘Just a few more days, Jean, I promise.’

‘What if they catch us,’ Jean whispered.

But Jeremy shook his head. ‘I can’t promise that they won’t,’ he said. ‘But we are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. We _can_ do this. You’ve just got to have some faith.’

‘Faith,’ murmured Jean, gazing up at him.

Jeremy smiled, and stroked his thumb across Jean’s cheekbone. ‘Yeah, faith. It means you believe in something - something that gives you hope. Even if you can’t see it.'

Jean gazed up at him, breath catching as something surged inside him. ‘I can see you,’ he whispered, hardly thinking about what the words meant, only knowing they were true.

Jeremy’s breathing stuttered. His hands tightened on Jean’s face. Before Jean’s brain could catch up with his racing heart, Jeremy leaned in and kissed him.

Jean’s eyes flew open and his heart just about stopped. He experienced a second of pure shock at the feeling of Jeremy’s lips on his, and then panic set in. It flooded him like ice water. Jeremy wanted sex. Jeremy wanted to do things with him - the kind of things Kevin did with Neil. Things that Jean was in no way mentally or emotionally capable of.

His whole body stiffened, tension shooting right down to his fingertips. He jerked back so hard his head hit the wall.

In an instant, Jeremy’s hands were gone. He sat back on his heels, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. His expression changed from confusion to surprise as Jean scrambled to his feet.

‘I - I can’t.’

Jeremy got to his feet too, hands raised. ‘I’m sorry, Jean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I read that all wrong.’

‘I can’t do any of that.’ Jean was babbling now. ‘I’ve never - that’s too much.’

Jeremy’s eyes widened. ‘Jean, I wasn’t asking you to do anything. It was just a kiss, I swear. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I’ll back off.’

Jean didn’t want that. He didn’t want Jeremy to _back off_. But he couldn’t do this. Not one bit, not at all. He could not have sex right now.

‘I’m not like that,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t do that.’

Jeremy reacted as though Jean had struck him. His eyes flew wide, and then his face fell a thousand yards, all the colour draining from his skin. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh, I - I didn’t know.’

Jean’s skin itched. He was horribly uncomfortable, and Jeremy looked scarcely less so. Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck, colour returning to his face, and he was looking anywhere but at Jean.

‘I should go,’ said Jean, feeling miserable.

‘Yeah,’ Jeremy mumbled. ‘Guess so. I’m sorry, Jean. I really thought you were …’

Jean felt bad for denying him what he wanted. It felt even worse than denying himself the closeness he craved. He shook, hating his body, hating himself for not being able for this.

The awkwardness between them was terrible, like a fist pushing them apart. Jean left before he could do any more damage.

But he stood outside the door for the longest time, hand pressed to his chest, over his racing heart, trying desperately to calm his breathing. His mouth buzzed with the memory of Jeremy’s, an unfamiliar press he’d never felt before but already desired. His was head too loud, full of competing thoughts; he couldn’t get anything straight. It was all a mess of his own making.

Jean couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He didn’t understand the pull and ache in his chest, this craving he felt under his skin. It frightened him; the thoughts his brain conjured up of Jeremy’s expectations and standards frightened him. Jeremy had been out there in the world, and he knew what to do and how to do it. Jean didn’t know anything - he knew even less than nothing. The inequality made him feel small, and embarrassed. Stupid.

Even the memories of Jeremy that he held in his heart and knew were real - Jeremy’s smile, his kindness and compassion, his empathy - they did nothing to convince Jean’s head that he would be enough for Jeremy.

He battled his thoughts all the way upstairs, each footstep ringing with defeat. Jean hadn’t thought it was so late, but there was far less activity than normal. He must have lost track of time again. It was easy to do that around Jeremy. Jean winced, trying to shut his mind against the memory.

On the stairs up to the bathrooms he found Katelyn, sitting on the steps. She was resting her head in her hands, and looked to be dozing.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she yawned, lifting her head. ‘Oh. Jean. Hi.’

‘Hello.’ He frowned. ‘Are you sleeping?’

She shook her head. ‘Just resting my eyes. You’re back early.’

Jean stiffened, hoping she wouldn’t say anything else. ‘Uh, yeah. Tired. Are you going down below?’

She shook her head again. ‘I was going to, but they’re nearly done, and anyways I’m so tuh-tuh-tired.’ A huge yawned punctured the end of her sentence. Jean could see right into her mouth; to his surprise, one of her back teeth was capped with silver.

‘You don’t want to see Aaron?’ Jean asked, a little heat in his voice.

Katelyn shrugged. ‘Sure I do. But hopefully I’ll be seeing him a lot more, soon.’

Jean hesitated, his mouth full of words he couldn’t speak. ‘Were you - do you ever kiss him?’

Katelyn’s hand fell from her face and she stared up at him. ‘What? Uh, yes, sometimes?’

Jean fidgeted on the stair until she patted the space beside her. ‘I sense you have another question,’ she said. Reluctantly, Jean sat down next to her. ‘Proceed.’

Jean looked anywhere but at Katelyn. ‘I was just wondering if you kiss him. And stuff. That’s all.’

Katelyn snorted. ‘And stuff,’ she commented. ‘There’s been no stuff, in case you’re looking to protect my virtue or something. Just a little kissing.’

Jean blinked, a little confused. ‘Ok, but - wait, just kissing?’

‘Well it’s not like we’re gonna ask Andrew to politely look away while we, like, have sex on the floor?’ Katelyn laughed. ‘Besides, I don’t know Aaron well enough for that yet. But apparently I do know _you_ well enough to be having this conversation. Where’s all this coming from, Jean?’

‘Is he ok with that?’ Jean persisted, trying to get it all out before he lost his nerve. ‘Just kissing, no sex?’

Katelyn looked slightly affronted now. ‘Is he what? Um, he has no say in the matter. I decide what I want to do or not do. And I really don’t think sex is the first thing on his mind right now. Well, maybe it’s up there, but we’re really not in any position to be doing that right now, and I’m sure he doesn’t - ’

Katelyn stopped, and then squinted at him. ‘You know,’ she said, after a moment’s thought. ‘Sex isn’t, like, mandatory. Not everyone does it. Sometimes people don’t do it until they know a person really, really well.’

Jean looked down at his hands, trying to act disinterested. ‘Oh, really?’

‘Really. It’s not even the best part, in my opinion.’

Jean clenched his teeth together. ‘Really.’

‘Yep. There are far better things. Like holding hands, talking for ages, kissing, just getting to know one another. I could kiss Aaron all day long, but I don’t think I’m ready to do anything else with him yet. Might not be for ages. Who knows? It’s not important, Jean. Sex is really, really unimportant.’

Jean had to look up at her, to see if she was making fun of him. All he found in her pale blue eyes was sincerity.

‘Oh,’ he said, in a very small voice. ‘Really.’

Katelyn smiled. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Really. Does that make you feel a bit better?’

It did, actually. Jean had a lot to think about. ‘You should go to bed,’ he said, after a minute. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘I am,’ said Katelyn, yawning again. ‘Bloody backbreaking work today, and that guard gave me another slap. Cannot wait to get the fuck out of here.’

She headed off down the steps again, but not before giving Jean a little pat on the head. He let her, because she meant well, and he was grateful for her kindness.

Jean took a long shower, figuring he must still have a little time before lights out. He let the hot water relax his tense muscles and tried to figure out what to do. But by the time he got down to the sleeping hall he was still no closer to having any answers.

To his surprise, everyone was already in bed. The lights were off but the door wasn’t locked, so someone must have turned them off themselves. Everyone was really feeling the pain of the guard’s antics the last few days, so it wasn’t really surprising that they were going to bed early, trying to be rid of the day as quickly as possible.

Jean got into bed as quietly as he could, but once there, sleep refused to come. He lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, his face scrunched up with the effort of trying to make sense of it all.

The tug in his stomach was insistent, so strong he thought he might be ill. His mind turned the memory of the kiss over and over, analysing and replaying and imagining. God, imagining what might have happened next if he hadn’t lost his head.

Jean knew Jeremy. Maybe he hadn’t known him for as long as he had Kevin or Neil, but he did know him. And Jeremy would never hurt him, or do something that made Jean uncomfortable. If Jean said no … if he just wanted to maybe have another kiss, or hold his hand like Katelyn said, would that be enough for him? Would Jeremy be ok with doing a little, and not a lot?

Jean thought he knew the answer, but the uncertainty plagued him.

He wanted Jeremy’s hands on him. He wanted to kiss him again - his stomach lurched and swooped at the thought, and his fists clenched his bedsheet. Jean gave a little gasp at the thought of Jeremy’s fingers in his hair, his body pressed up against his. When had Jean become like this? He never had thoughts like this about - about anyone. Now he felt like he’d still be awake come morning, eyes wide and staring, thinking about Jeremy’s hands and his neck and his soft lips against his own.

It was too much - but not in the same way as it had been earlier. Jean hardly realised that he was getting out of bed, slipping on his overalls, picking the lock and going downstairs. He moved in a daze, keeping to the shadows, hardly able to think about the route when all he could think about was Jeremy.

When he made it to the boiler room the light was off. Jeremy was asleep. Jean hadn’t planned for this.

Except he wasn’t asleep. As soon as Jean pushed the door open there was a rustle of blankets. ‘Jean?’

Jean breathed out a sigh of relief at just the sound of his voice. ‘It’s me.’

Jeremy didn’t respond. Jean could vaguely make him out in the faint light from underneath the door.

Moving quickly, so he had no time to talk himself out of it, he crossed to Jeremy’s sleeping space and knelt down before him. Jeremy was sitting up; he scrambled to his knees but didn’t move any closer. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Is everything ok?’

Jean wished he could see him better. He could just make out the lines of his face, the shape of him, the faint glint of his eyes.

Jean's breathing was coming fast. His pulse was still elevated, and being this close to Jeremy was doing nothing to help that situation.

‘Jean?’

He took a deep breath.

‘I’ve never kissed anyone before,’ he whispered.

Jeremy exhaled shakily. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ Jean said. ‘I just meant that I wasn’t ready. But I - I can’t stop thinking about it - I - ’

He swallowed, and feared he would become lost in words and babbling if he said anything else. So he just asked, ‘Can you do it again?’

Jeremy’s breath caught in his throat. Jean hoped he wouldn’t make him ask twice.

But he didn’t. Jeremy reached out and took Jean’s hands in his own. His thumbs stroked over his palms for a moment, and Jean didn’t miss how he trembled. Then he reached up and touched Jean’s face again. It was a tentative touch this time; careful, hesitant. Jean held still, and his eyes slipped shut as he savoured every second of it. One hand cupped his cheek; the other touched his jaw. His thumb stretched and brushed over his bottom lip, and Jean shivered hard. His lips parted under Jeremy’s gentle touch.

‘We don’t have to do - anything you don’t want to,’ he whispered. Jean could feel the caress of his words against his skin; Jeremy was very close. ‘I promise.’

Jean knew that. Of course he knew that. He just hadn’t remembered it right away.

Jeremy’s hand slipped down to Jean’s neck. His breathing was shaky, just like Jean’s. Incredibly, it seemed that Jeremy was nervous too, or at least very affected. They leaned in together; slowly, perfectly. Jean, in a sudden rush of excitement, closed the gap first.

Their lips met in a perfect press. Jean held steady, trying to control his trembling body, hoping Jeremy would know what to do next. But as the kiss deepened, Jean thought he’d be happy to just hold like this forever. Jeremy flooded his senses; his scent, the heat of him, the softness of his hands on his face and neck. His lips, so gentle, against his own. Jean’s hands came up of their own accord, sliding over Jeremy’s hips until they found his waist. His thumb accidentally brushed a bit of exposed skin under his t-shirt, and it drew a gasp from Jeremy’s lips and sent a shudder running through his body.

It broke the kiss, but not their contact. Jeremy’s fingers tightened reflexively before both hands dropped to Jeremy’s shoulders. ‘Jean,’ he whispered.

Jean startled at the sound of his name on Jeremy’s lips; it sounded like a different name, belonging to another person. Someone who could make Jeremy shake like that, just by being close. With just a simple kiss.

Jean leaned in again, and this time Jeremy met him eagerly. The kiss was hotter, deeper. Jeremy’s mouth moved against his, and after a brief panic of not knowing what to do, Jean found that he did know what to do. He copied Jeremy, mouth moving against his in a way that worked and felt good. Jeremy tilted his head, so Jean tilted his the other way, and their mouths slotted together in very, very good way. Jeremy’s hands slid up his neck again and found his face, holding him so sweetly. He shuffled a little closer on his knees, and Jean did the same, eagerly seeking that closeness.

Jeremy kissed him in little bites; quick presses of his lips, brief tastes. It made Jean hungry for more. He deepened each one, chasing after Jeremy’s mouth when he pulled back. To his surprise, he felt Jeremy’s lips curve into a smile when pressed against his own.

‘Mmm,’ he murmured, holding back just slightly. ‘I like that.’

Jean wasn’t sure what he meant specifically, but he definitely agreed, and went in for another kiss. It was, he realised, the best thing he’d ever done, hands down, no competition. No wonder Kevin and Neil were always sneaking off. How did they ever manage to come back?

His hands gripped Jeremy’s waist, eager to keep him close. Jeremy’s arms now encircled his neck, one hand on the back of his head. He was leaning into Jean, pushing back against him. Jean pushed back a little more, enjoying how solid and strong Jeremy’s body felt against his, yet soft and yielding too. He appreciated their size difference, and how Jeremy felt against him. When Jeremy took a fistful of his shirt in his hand and started to lean backwards, Jean went without argument.

Jean thought his weight might crush Jeremy, but somehow they found a way to fit their legs and arms and bodies together that left plenty of space for kissing. It was a close, heady thing, to have Jeremy’s body flush against his own. He was pretty focused on kissing him for the moment, but in the back of his mind were thoughts about how much of Jeremy there was, and how each part might feel under Jean’s hands, or even his mouth. Jean shivered at the very idea, and Jeremy murmured happily. HIs hands had found Jean’s hair, and his fingertips were currently scraping across his scalp in a way that was starting to make Jean grow hard.

That was another mildly panic-inducing moment, but Jean forced himself to stop thinking about it and relax. Nothing had to happen that he didn’t want to happen. Jeremy had said that, and Jean trusted Jeremy. Besides, everything had been good so far. So, so good.

They kissed for what felt like hours. Maybe it was days. Sometimes Jean had to stop and gasp for air, and these were the moments that Jeremy’s mouth found Jean’s neck. The first time he did it, the shock was so intense that his mouth fell open in a gasp, and he almost lost his balance. Jeremy enjoyed his reaction so much that he nudged and pushed at Jean until he rolled over, and let Jeremy get on top of him. This was different - Jeremy didn’t cover him with his body. Instead, he spread his legs on either side of him so he was sitting in his lap. Then he bent forward and touched Jean’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before trailing his mouth down his jaw and back to his neck again.

The feeling was beyond belief. Jean’s body writhed as Jeremy kissed his neck, soft lips turning hard, sucking and even nibbling a little at the skin. It should have been painful - it almost was - but somehow it directly translated into pure pleasure, and had Jean clutching the blanket with one hand and gripping Jeremy’s waist with the other, biting his lip to keep from making ridiculous sounds.

Jeremy’s thumb found Jean’s lip again, teasing it out from between his teeth. ‘So quiet,’ he murmured, between kisses to Jean’s overly sensitive neck. ‘Don’t be shy.’

To emphasis the point, he left his thumb there, on the wet curve of Jean’s bottom lip. Helpless to disobey under Jeremy’s careful, firm hands, Jean felt more than heard a groan escape from his throat.

Just when his neck was straying into the too-sensitive territory, Jeremy pulled back. His lips grew soft again, moving up to Jean’s mouth. Incredible though the neck kisses had been, Jean was glad. He’d missed him.

Time became forgotten entirely. Jean’s hands roamed over Jeremy’s back and sides, up over his strong arms and shoulders. He felt the bump of his injury, much smaller now, and a few other small nicks and scars he’d picked up. He longed to touch his skin - it was radiating heat through the thin cotton - but the thought made him feel too nervous and giddy. Still, he thought, something to look forward to.

Even so, he couldn’t help but let his hands roam down over the backs of Jeremy’s legs. Every time they strayed up towards the curve of Jeremy’s ass, Jean could feel him tense up and stutter in his movements. It began to make Jean laugh after the first few times, and Jeremy laughed back at him, both giddy and over-excited.

Eventually, they began to calm down. Jeremy took the lead in that, slowing their kisses and pulling back every few minutes so they could look at each other. They were lying side by side, still touching, and murmuring to each other now. Jean let his fingers trail up and down Jeremy’s neck, bewitched by the feeling of his skin. Jeremy’s hand rested on Jean’s waist, and he could hear the smile in his voice every time he spoke, even if he couldn’t quite see it on his face.

‘Weren’t you meant to be digging tonight?’ Jean asked. He hadn’t even considered that earlier, in his half-crazed state.

Jeremy made a little noise of amusement. ‘Ah, I was. But I didn’t want to cramp Katelyn’s style. And to be honest … I didn’t really feel like seeing anyone.’

Jean bit his lip. ‘After what I said?’

’Yeah.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jean said, softly. ‘Change is ... hard.’

Jeremy snorted. ‘I’ll say. You ok now, though?’

Jean nodded insistently. ‘I am, I swear. It feels like I was asleep this whole time, and now I'm not.'

Jeremy’s fingers idled over Jean’s waist, and trailed up to his chest. ‘What made you come back?’

Jean wondered how to explain how he’d felt, lying alone in bed. Was there a word or phrase that could describe it?

‘My whole body … needed you,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I was just lying there. Nothing had ever felt so pointless as lying there, wanting you, and not doing anything about it.’ He paused, blinking. ‘I still can’t believe I did it.’

Jeremy snuggled a little closer, brushing their noses together. ‘They call that an executive decision,’ he said. ‘Good for you, sweetheart.’

Jean smiled. ‘I like when you call me that.’

‘Well, I like saying it,’ Jeremy replied. Then, after a few moments of quiet, he said, 'So, when you said earlier that you weren't like that - that you didn't "do this" ... What did you mean?'

Jean frowned, a little puzzled. 'Like, this. Sex stuff. Uh ... just, anything like this.' It was embarrassing to have to repeat it. 

Jeremy exhaled quietly. 'Oh.'

'What did you think I meant?'

Jeremy lowered his gaze. 'I thought you meant that you didn't do this with men, specifically.'

Jean blinked. 'Oh.' That hadn't even occurred to him.

Jeremy made a little noise of amusement. 'Wait, so did you grow up just thinking all men liked other men like this, or what?'

Jean shrugged. 'I guess? I always knew Kevin did. Riko doesn't like anyone. And everyone else just ... I didn't know there were rules.' He panicked briefly. 'Are there rules?'

Jeremy was laughing, and kissing him again, and Jean decided not to bother worrying about it.

Jean realised, after a few more minutes of comfortable silence and touching, that he could have stayed like this all night. All day, too. The thought set off some quiet but echoing alarm bells in his head.

‘Oh,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I can’t stay.’

There was silence between them for a beat, and then Jeremy sighed. ‘I thought you might say that,’ he said.

Jean touched him again. ‘The guards are getting worse. I’m worried they’re watching the doors.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘No, I understand.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You know, this can just be … this. If you want. I just don’t want you to think that I need any more than this. You know, I just … don’t want you to worry about any of that.’

It was unusual to hear hesitation in Jeremy’s voice. It made Jean’s next kiss more urgent, clutching at Jeremy and trying to tell him what he couldn’t possibly attempt in words. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe if life ever gave him the time and space - and peace - to figure out, he could try.

‘Go,’ whispered Jeremy, when they finally parted. ‘You’ll barely get any sleep as it is.’

Jean had always thought the hardest part of every day was dragging himself out of bed in the morning. It was always with a sense of sadness and deep gloom, knowing there was little to look forward to and a lot to dread in the day. He would try to focus on the hunger in his belly and the need to pee in order to get himself upright and moving.

Leaving Jeremy was so much harder than that, even with the knowledge that he’d see him again in a few hours.

But, even though Jean wished he didn’t have to go, the memory of what they did was so incredibly exciting that Jean couldn’t keep the smile off his face. All the way upstairs, it fizzed inside him. He paused once or twice to run a hand over his face and refresh his memory, in case something in his brain was trying to trick him into thinking it was all a dream. All with the same silly smile on his face. He thought wildly about waking Kevin up to tell him, just for the pleasure of talking about Jeremy again.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted, he’d have heard the voices sooner. He should have at least heard the squeaking wheels of their beds. The beds wheels were normally locked in place, to keep them from moving about if they shifted in sleep. Jean had never had the need to move his before. He’d never wanted to sleep anywhere except next to Kevin and Neil.

So the squeaky wheels should have been something strange, something that pulled him up short and made him hide. But his brain was full of Jeremy and kissing, and was not working as it was supposed to.

He saw the beds first - the most unusual thing to find in a corridor usually meant for people walking upright. There was a man asleep in it - someone from his sleeping hall. He was dead asleep, not even stirring as a guard pushing him down the hall. The guard was talking to his friend at normal volume too, and yet the man in the bed didn’t wake up.

The door to his sleeping hall was open. More beds were being moved. Jean took a step forward, mouth open, his brain so far behind his body. Then something very hard hit him on the back of his head, and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO a few notes:
> 
> 1\. Changed the militia name to Palmetto because i'm a big dumb idiot.
> 
> 2\. This ain't the end, I've been writing a sequel lol. So the ending here may feel a bit abrupt but just cos it ain't the end at all!!!!!
> 
> 3\. thanks byeee

Jean didn’t come down for breakfast in the morning. Jeremy was not concerned; he’d been there half the night, and Jeremy had enough food to get by on. Jeremy didn’t expect him to come down. He would have been surprised if he had.

So he went about his usual daily routine. Routine had saved him in Palmetto. He’d spent so long rattling around the southern states with Laila and Alvarez, and it had started to affect his nerves. All three of them had been depressed and hopeless, half-starved. And they were scared. The war was choppy and uneven in its movements, and they couldn’t figure out how to move around it. The fighting seemed to be coming from all sides.

Then Coach had reeled them in, and Jeremy’s life started to tick upwards again. He had chores, jobs, things to do. And the he was inducted into the smuggling business, and he really started to thrive. He had responsibility. He knew what he was doing when he woke up, most days. The colour came back into his cheeks.

So Jeremy did his push ups and sit ups and sprints and some of the yoga he could remember getting coaxed into by his friends back when he lived in San Francisco. He couldn’t allow his body to fall out of shape, after he’d worked so hard to turn it into something that could carry him through this war.

He’d started talking to himself, only because he had nothing to write with. He kept going over the plan, even though there was nothing more they could possibly plan for. He could hear Laila and Alvarez and Aaron’s voices in his head, repeating each and every scenario. Katelyn knew it all too, upside down and back to front, and Jeremy suspected thatNeil did too. Jean and Kevin preferred to keep their heads buried in the sand, but no one could blame them for that.

Despite all of his activity and planning and talking and walking, Jeremy typically ran out of things to do after a few hours. He stopped eating a midday meal after he found out that Jean never did. It kept him hungry, but he got to just lie down and drink water and think about other things. He didn’t have to break his work upstairs doing manual labor.

Jean may have had an uncanny sense of time, but Jeremy had started to sense when it was close to dinner time. For one thing, his hunger would start to fade, as though his brain knew food was coming soon. But for another thing, sometimes he felt like he could hear the sounds of upstairs. Or maybe something just intensified as more people began to walk about above his head.

Jean was late. Jeremy wouldn’t start without him, but he hoped he’d come soon. He had secreted away some chocolate and was looking forward to surprising Jean with it. He’d get that little bright eyed look and smile on his face that was so incredibly rare, and then he’d refuse of course, but eventually be encouraged to talk small little bits. Jeremy had worked extra hard today to chase away thought of running his finger through the chocolate and then putting it to Jean’s lips.

The worst possible day for Jean to be late. It would be hard enough to keep his hands to himself without Jean making him wait for that smile.

Jeremy had barely been able to keep the grin off his face all morning. He’d been having thoughts about Jean like this for a while, usually after evenings of basking in his gentle presence and soft-spoken conversation. Sometimes, when he was really tired and lonely, these thoughts became a bit explicit; Jeremy had been trying desperately to control these urges because Jean was already so incredibly vulnerable. It felt wrong to be thinking about him like that, especially now with Jean’s apparent aversion to sex.

Jeremy wasn’t a fool. He knew that agreeing to be kissed did not mean that Jean was ready for anything else, and he’d listened and listened hard to Jean’s uncertain explanations. It broke Jeremy’s heart a little to think about all the wonderful experiences Jean had missed out on, and it made Jeremy desperate to show him. They'd find Jean's pace, and they'd stick to it. Jeremy could do that for him.

He wanted to make Jean happy. When Jeremy felt low, or hopeless, or scared down here alone by himself, he thought about showing Jean a sunrise. War or not, there would always be sunrises and sunets to enjoy.

Jeremy wanted to kiss him in the sunshine, so that he could open his eyes and see his face.

Dinner time rolled around, and then dinner time passed, if Jeremy’s stomach was anything to go by. He began to watch the door with mild impatience, then with some concern. Jean had never been this late before. But there were plenty of reasons to be explored. He was talking with Kevin and Neil, or there was a slow line for the showers, or maybe he was just taking the long way to avoid the guards. Jeremy’s heart clenched at the thought of a new cut or bruise marring his skin.

But the time continued to pass, and still no Jean. Jeremy went so far as to walk all the way to the end of the basement hallway, where Jean would definitely not like him to be. He hid underneath the staircase, ears straining for any footsteps, just in case someone appeared who wasn’t Jean. Jeremy waited there, growing more anxious by the minute, even though there were plenty more explanations for why Jean hadn’t yet appeared.

Perhaps he’d had a delayed reaction to their intimacy the night before. Maybe he’d decided he needed some space to figure it all out … or maybe he just didn’t want to see Jeremy after all. Maybe he regretted it, or couldn’t handle it. Jeremy had to accept that as a possibility. Jean was his first exposure to intimacy and romance - that didn’t mean it had to be right or enough for him.

Eventually, Jeremy gave up and went back to the boiler room. He felt disheartened and low, and not a little lonely, but he could deal with it. If Jean needed that time, he deserved it, and Jeremy would not complain.

He ate more of his rations than he should have, and then went down to the tunnel room, just for something to do.

Although the tunnel was done, Aaron was still turning up to meet Katelyn. Jeremy didn’t want to third wheel but he thought they wouldn’t mind sparing him ten minutes to talk out a few concerns he had. And maybe they wouldn’t mind just talking to him about other stuff too - about the outside, or before. Jeremy sure did get lonely sometimes.

He arrived, cooled his heels for a few minutes, and then had to let Aaron in himself.

‘Where’s Katelyn?’ he blurted out.

‘Good evening to you too,’ Jeremy said dryly, reaching out to pull him up. Aaron hardly needed it; long months of pulling himself around in tunnels just like this had given him outrageous shoulders and biceps.

‘Sorry,’ said Aaron, quickly. ‘What’s up?’

Jeremy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I came down here to talk to you guys for a few minutes, that’s all. I guess Katelyn’s late.’

He hoped Aaron wouldn’t make a comment about Jean, and he didn’t. Jeremy didn’t know how he would explain that Jean hadn’t been with him that night, without making it sound like that was a more upsetting situation for him than it should be.

They talked for a short while, strictly business. Aaron was clearly distracted, having been expecting Katelyn. He kept glancing over Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy couldn’t even be irritated; he was starting to feel a little strange about it too.

When about thirty minutes had passed, Jeremy and Aaron were starting to look at each other uneasily.

‘Is she ever late?’ Jeremy asked.

‘No. But maybe she just got tired and passed out,’ Aaron said, shrugging tiredly. ‘It’s probably nothing.’

Jeremy eyed him. ‘Jean didn’t come down tonight,’ he said, quietly.

Aaron frowned. ‘Is that weird?’

Jeremy thought about the way they had touched last night, and kissed. He remembered how Jean had shuddered with pleasure beneath him, and how, afterwards, his voice had been so deep with affection and his eyes had shone when he looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he said.

They stared at each other for another minute or so.

Aaron just shook his head.

An hour passed, and neither of them could stand it any longer.

‘Have you ever gone upstairs by yourself?’ Aaron asked. ‘Would you know your way around?’

Jeremy thought he would, but he felt like they would find the environment changed in ways they couldn’t possibly predict.

‘Possibly,’ he hedged. ‘I don’t know, I think something’s going on up there.’

They could no longer stand to look at each other’s tense faces. They agreed that Aaron would send someone back in the morning. If Jean had not appeared by then, they would have to go upstairs and investigate.

It was hard to go back to bed. Jeremy was tired, but there was simply no way he would allow himself to sleep right away. He began analysing everything Jean had said about the upstairs over the last few days. The guards treating them roughly, trying to disperse their social groups. Jean had only just recovered from the vicious beating he’d received …

Jeremy lay on the floor, pressed up against the boiler, and put his hands over his face. He had so much to do and so much to figure out, but fear was threatening to overwhelm him. It was made worse by the fact that they were separated by just a few floors of concrete. Jean was up there somewhere, and Jeremy was down here, doing nothing about it.

Somehow, he slept. Probably just for an hour or two, and he woke up feeling pretty much the same as he had before. And this time he had no idea what time it was, so he just went out to the stairs again to wait.

This time, Jeremy could not restrain himself. He waited about half an hour, bouncing on his heels, until he could hear footsteps very faintly, way above. He’d heard them before, sometimes, when he went to the bathroom during the day and got curious. He was too deep down to hear anything like voices, but he strained his ears anyway.

Jeremy found his feet carrying him up the steps. It was a long way up, and he went as slow as his body would allow him to go, desperately trying to hear.

When he got to the door, he couldn’t stop himself from going through. He still had the overalls borrowed from Kevin - they had Jean’s blood on them, and he hadn’t wanted to return them like that. So he washed them as best he could and dried them on the boiler, and he wore them now as he prepared to open the last door and enter the estate proper.

He held himself still for five solid minutes until he was sure no one was nearby, and then pushed open the door.

It was quiet. Quieter than he’d thought. Jeremy had believed the heavy door was hiding most of the sound, but that apparently wasn’t true. Slowly, he made his way down the corridor in the same direction that Jean had brought him the last time. He had left his boots and socks on the staircase - they were making too much noise - and now padded along in bare feet, wincing at the cold but knowing he’d get a better grip with his skin than with cotton if he had to run.

Jeremy knew that he if met anyone with a gun, that was it. Unless he could outrun them or somehow manage to hide, he’d be dead. And even if he did manage to hide, they would soon find the tunnel. He’d have to go down it and collapse it behind him. That was one of their failsafes, and no one liked it. But he’d have to do it.

Knowing that made him pause, cold fear slick on his back, and everything in him screamed at him to turn around and go back down to safety.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Jean was here, somewhere, and something was wrong.

The good thing about sneaking around somewhere where nobody expected anybody to be sneaking was that everyone forgot to be quiet. Jeremy was able to hide from the first guard patrols because he heard them early enough to either get into a stairwell or behind a door. Everything was unlocked in this place; at one point he found himself in the laundry room. It was cavernous and dark - and silent. Nothing was running. Nobody was working.

Jeremy felt like he was chasing something invisible. His growing sense of dread was almost suffocating, and thoughts like  _they’re all dead_  rotated slowly in his brain no matter how hard he tried to ignore them. Maybe the Moriyamas knew that the Palmetto Militia were closing in on the estate and wanted to get rid of the evidence of what they were doing … or more likely, get rid of all those bodies that could potentially take up arms against them and the hostile government. Or maybe they’d all been handed a gun and shipped off to wherever the warfront was now. And of course, they might all have been loaded into trucks and shipped off to one of the other rich estates propping up the government with forced labor that were dotted around the southern and central states.

These were all possibilities that the Militia had discussed over and over. Jeremy knew they had happened before, elsewhere, and could easily happen here. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider it possible; they had the tunnel, they were getting everyone out. It was all going to be ok. He’d believed it too, and not just for Jean’s sake.

Jeremy thought his luck had run out when he found himself trapped in a small storage room, and the guards followed him inside.

He’d ducked in and hadn’t bothered to hide when he saw he was just in cramped room full of shelves carrying unmarked boxes. There were dozens like them all through the estate; this one had interesting tiling patterns behind the shelves, indicating it had likely once been a bathroom or powder room, or maybe an office. The room was automatically lit by glow strips on the wall, probably in case the power went out, and Jeremy had about 10 seconds to survey the room before he realised they were coming in after him.

Heart pounding, certain he’d been spotted, Jeremy darted to the back of the room and crouched down behind the shelf in the furthest corner. He had no idea how it would look to someone standing in the doorway, and for all he knew the thing they were looking for was located at his current eye level. Nothing he could do now. Jeremy held his breath as the door swung open and the lights flashed on in full.

‘Really reminds me of my time at Sussex I,’ one guard was saying. His partner’s reply was lost in the shuffle of their boots and Jeremy’s blood roaring in his ears. ’Iversson says the doors are all wired up so they can open and close at the touch of a button or some shit. Except for 2, 3 and 4, of course.’

The other guard grunted a laugh as they started shifting boxes on the shelves around. ‘The VIPs,’ he joked. ‘Lock and key only.’

‘Fuckin’ right. 4 could wriggle through the gap between your two front teeth.’

‘Won’t be wriggling anywhere for a while, ‘cept under my boot.’

The other guard laughed, then made a little noise of discovery. ‘Oh, they’re here.’

The two rummaged around for a few minutes, and Jeremy could hear hard plastic rustling as they gathered up whatever they’d come down for.

‘Alright, that’s probably enough,’ one said. ‘Lets get them back to the east wing.’

‘Didn’t think we’d use them all up so fast,’ the other grunted. Jeremy heard the door opening. ‘I don’t think the boss expected as many freak-outs. Especially not from 2 and 3.’

Jeremy’s blood ran cold.

‘Well, Iversson said he’s gonna give them enough to knock them out for another 12 hours. Hopefully they’ll be nice and limp after that, otherwise we’ll have to start in on them again …’

The rest was lost to the door swinging shut. The lights flickered off, and Jeremy was left alone in the poor light of the glow strips.

When he regained control of his limbs, Jeremy scrambled to his feet. He was about to poke his head out of the door when he remembered the boxes. Turning back, he moved to where some of the boxes looked visibly opened, and looked inside. The box was full of individual plastic-wrapped hypodermic needles.

 

Jeremy took longer than expected to get back down to the tunnel room. He got slightly turned about at one point, and his own head was spinning so badly he could hardly remember the way. He also went back into his room to check, just in case Jean had appeared, even though he knew this was pointless. Even so, the empty room seemed hideously so, and made his heart sink to his shoes.

When he eventually arrived, he found Laila and Alvarez sweating and exhausted waiting for him under the man-hole.

‘We’ve been travelling back and forth underneath for an hour!’ Laila snapped, striding away with her hands over her head, trying to stretch out.

‘Can’t stay in place for too long,’ Alvarez muttered, hands on her knees. ‘Too claustrophobic.’

‘Sorry,’ Jeremy said, mechanically.

The other two finally looked at him, frowns replacing annoyance. ‘Jean didn’t come down this morning,’ Laila said, quietly. It was a question, but she stated it as truth.

Jeremy shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he said quietly. ‘So I went upstairs.’

They huddled together in a little circle and Jeremy took comfort in his friends’ quiet, serious faces and folded arms as he told them what had happened and what he’d seen.

‘They’ve moved them,’ he finished. ‘Into those new cells in the east wing that Jean said they’d been building. And … they’re sedating them too, it seems like.’

‘They fought back,’ Alvarez said, softly.

‘Some of them,’ Jeremy said, worrying his lip. His stomach felt like it was full of ice.

‘Ok,’ Laila said, nodding and thinking. ‘Ok. It’s time to step it up. They’re not quite ready at HQ but that doesn’t matter. The half-way base has been ready for days now. When Aaron came back last night we started getting everything moving, just in case. They’re ready to blow a bridge on my signal.’

‘When?’

‘Tonight,’ Laila said. ‘Four in the morning. We get them out, collapse the tunnel, regroup at the half-way.’

Alvarez was nodding, but Jeremy’s eyes widened. ‘But - how? How the fuck are we going to get them all out? They’re under lock and key.’

Alvarez shook her head. ‘You said just Jean, Neil, and Kevin, right?’

Jeremy frowned. ‘Sort of. It sounds like they’re not on the same grid as the rest of them.’

‘Figures,’ Alvarez said. But Laila didn’t look daunted.

‘So we bring in Dan and cut the power,’ she said. ‘And there were a few other volunteers, before we even knew what was up.’

Jeremy shook his head. ‘Coach can’t possibly have planned for this,’ he said, hollowly. ‘We don’t have any idea what we’re up against.’

Laila just shrugged. ‘Even if Command tells us to back down from this one, Coach won’t. He won’t leave his son again.’

They stayed together for a little while longer, sharing the food the girls had brought and talking quietly. They had some rough blueprints of the estate that were about a year old, and Laila thought they had a good chance of getting Dan where she needed to be in order to shut everything down.

‘Or just open it all up,’ Alvarez suggested. ‘Create some chaos.’

‘Whatever we have to do,’ agreed Laila. Then she looked at Jeremy. ‘Are you ok? You’re very quiet.’

Jeremy thought that if he opened his mouth to speak he might be sick.

‘They said something,’ he said, quietly. ‘They just call them by their numbers … I just have a really bad feeling. I don’t know why they’ve moved them, and why they’re not letting them do any work.’

‘Coach thinks they’re moving more bodies in from another location,’ Alvarez replied, grimly. ‘It seems like the games are over and they’re really stepping things up.’

‘Or maybe they tried to escape one too many times,’ Laila said, softly.

Jeremy winced, and looked down at his feet. He couldn’t stop picturing the bruises on Jean’s face, the ginger way he’d held himself as he’d lowered himself down beside Jeremy, never complaining. Jeremy found that there was an ache, deep in his chest, when he thought about Jean now. A fierce want, almost a need, to be beside him. It was not helping the situation at all.

‘We’ll get them out, Jeremy,’ Laila said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘This is a complication, but we can handle it. Our records show there aren’t as many guards on staff here as there should be. If we get enough weapons in, we can overwhelm them.’

Bullets flying was never good when you had to guide unarmed and potentially woundedcivilians through it. Jeremy had high-tailed it out of enough war-torn towns up and down the east coast by now to know that someone always got clipped, right at the end, when it was too late to turn back and help them. Bodies fell that didn’t have anything to do with the conflict, because these people weren’t soldiers and they hadn’t been trained and they just shot anything that moved because they were afraid.

‘They’ve never been out in the world,’ he said, softly. ‘Jean, I mean, and Kevin. They’ve never seen … anything. The missed almost every single experience that makes life worth living. They  _cannot_  die in here.’

Laila and Alvarez exchanged glances. ‘Ok,’ Laila said. ‘So lets make sure no one does.’

And so they ended up staying even longer, talking, discussing, planning. Jeremy just needed to hear them saying it, that they agreed with him and that his plans weren’t crazy. And he could get frustrated and angry in a way he couldn’t with Jean. Or, not that he couldn’t, but wouldn’t. Jean dealt with enough in his own life without having to deal with Jeremy’s worries too.

‘There’s one more thing,’ Laila added, when they were finally packing up to go. They’d broken into Neil’s secret stashes and ransacked some of the bags for more food, because no rules applied now, and had been pleased to find some bags of nuts and seeds, which they had chomped on shamelessly and almost felt content. Jeremy, who was trying to dig a seed out from between his teeth with his tongue, looked up.

‘What?’ he asked.

Laila glanced at Alvarez before responding. ‘Coach has decided you being here doesn’t contribute to the mission anymore,’ she said, shortly. ‘He wants you to come back with us now.’

‘We have a spare trolley down there,’ Alvarez offered. ‘And we’ll give you a boost if your shoulder gets bad.’

She smiled as though trying to reassure, but Jeremy was miles back, trying to understand what Laila was saying.

‘I can’t go with you,’ he said, sounding oblivious but with a growing feeling of darkness inside. ‘I have to be here in case - ‘

‘In case what?’ Laila said. ‘All you can do here is get caught, Jeremy. You can either spend the next, like 18 hours hanging around down here, going hungry and bored and worrying yourself to pieces, or you can come back with us, get food and a hot shower and a full debrief, and come back ready to fucking kill, ok? So, come on.’

But Jeremy didn’t move. Laila continued over to the tunnel, a determined set to her shoulders, but Alvarez looked back uncertainly.

‘I can’t,’ Jeremy said, staring right back at her. He wasn’t going to argue this. ‘I can’t go.’

Laila didn’t respond, but Alvarez sighed. ‘You know you can’t do anything here,’ she said. ‘You can’t make any move without us.’

‘He’s too proud,’ Laila called back, and Jeremy stiffened.

‘It is  _not_  pride,’ he said. ‘I’m sleeping in my own filth and having cold bird baths in a basement. There’s nothing to be proud of.’

‘Then you’re a martyr,’ Laila said, still not looking back at him. ‘I don’t know why this is the hill you want to die on, Jeremy, and I don’t want to fight you on it. But Coach ordered me to bring you back, so that’s what’s happening.’

Jean would never know he had gone. Jeremy could go to the halfway point, get fed and washed and become some semblance of his old self again, and then come back for Jean.

Jeremy flinched away from the words even as the thought occurred to him.  _Come back for Jean_. Like he was luggage to be stored until Jeremy was ready to collect it.

And there was always a chance that Neil might pull something off, or something might happen,  _anything_  that might cause them to be let out of wherever they were being kept. Jeremy couldn’t predict anything here - it made him feel powerless - so he clung to the one thing he knew, which was that Jean was even more powerless. Jean needed him, and Jeremy could do nothing for him except know that he was alone, and likely suffering. He could not just turn his back and go grab a hot meal and a shower. The idea turned his stomach.

‘I’m not leaving,’ he said again, his voice softer this time. He would wait as long as he had to and he’d use the time to make lists of every wonderful thing he was going to show Jean once he got him out of here. ‘I’m sorry.’

Laila finally heard the resolve in his voice and turned around. ‘Why?’ she demanded.

Jeremy met her gaze. ‘I can’t leave him,’ he said. He gave a little shrug. ‘I won’t.’

Jeremy felt the change in his voice; his friends noticed it too. He put his hands in his pockets, ready to defend his stance.

But Laila just frowned a little, and then glanced at Alvarez. ‘Ok,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll … I’ll say we were interrupted before I could mention it, and you had to leave fast.’

Jeremy blinked. ‘Thank you.’

Laila just gave a little shrug. She was still looking at Alvarez. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Just make sure you’re down here on time to let us in.’

‘How will you know what time it is?’ Alvarez asked.

Jeremy lowered his gaze. ‘Oh, I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I’ve been getting pretty good at that.’

 

 

Jean woke up freezing cold. He was so cold he didn’t immediately register all of his limbs; he tried to stretch, and found that the lump below his waist was in fact his two legs, frozen together.

Some kind of sound escaped his mouth as the pain brought him screaming back into reality. He was naked still. They had taken his clothes away. Somehow, he had managed to crawl under the one thin blanket he had felt with his toe before they had turned the hose on him and then shut off the lights. The force of the water had driven him to his knees, and then to his stomach. Jean wished they could have just stabbed him with another needle.

His brain was slow to waken. Slowly, Jean drew himself upright, trying to get his blood flowing and gritting his teeth so hard he thought they’d crack. For a while, all he could feel was fear, and pain. But with pain came clarity, and the realisation that he was going to die.

Jean had woken up with a splitting headache, blood coating the back of his neck, and no solid memory of what had happened. It had taken half an hour of painful recollection for the images of the beds on wheels, their sleeping occupants being carried away in the night. Before that … Jean felt a despair quite unlike anything he’d ever felt before as he remembered Jeremy. Soft, impossibly warm, touching him. Where was he now? Alone, hungry. Worse still was the thought that Jean would never see him again. Jeremy would escape, or his friends would drag him down the tunnel, and Jean would die here.

The thought had initially flooded his bones with a fierce heat. He’d been so close -  _so damn close_. How dare they take that away from him? This must have been what Neil had been feeling whenever he got that wild look in his eyes. That anger had sustained him, and he’d launched himself at the first person through the door with all the power in his body.

But it wasn’t enough. When enough men had beaten him, they held him down and stuck a needle in his arm. Jean wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious for, but when he’d woken up again the lights were out and his clothes were gone.

Panic set in. He hammered at the door, shouting. He could not stand there in the dark waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t control himself; he felt choked by fear, and despair. Maybe he deserved it when they turned the powerful jet of water on him.

The fight had gone out of Jean now. He chafed his limbs under his thin scrap of blanket, and was startled by streaks of stinging heat on his cheeks. Tears of humiliation, and loneliness. He was beaten.

When they came again, it was to bring him food. Jean held very still, hoping that bodies could shake in their sleep, so that they would not suspect that he was awake. A tray clattered to the ground - Jean flinched, hard -and then the door slammed.

Jean’s heart was beating so hard he could barely catch his breath. After he’d calmed down, he felt ashamed of himself, and crawled over towards the door. When his hands found the edge of the tray he tugged it back towards himself, retreating into the corner. He found a piece of bread, dry, and a small bowl of cold liquid that smelled like old vegetables. He devoured them before he had a chance to taste anything.

When they came again, Jean had nothing left to give. He’d already had to piss in the corner, and he’d stepped in it by mistake.He knew how powerless he was, now that he was alone.

‘Are you going to get feisty again?’ the guard asked, a thread of mocking in his voice.

Jean coughed deep in his chest before answering. ‘No.’

The guard huffed in amusement. ‘That didn’t last long.’

Jean let his chin drop to his chest, with nothing to say.

‘You be good for a few days and we’ll put you back to work,’ the guard went on. ’Won’t be like before, though. No more little parties. No more friends.’

Jean didn’t respond, and eventually they left him alone.

His body was shivering painfully. Jean curled up as tight as possible until his limbs started to ache and he had to stretch them out again. It was clear now that he was lying in one of the cells he had helped to build. Presumably Kevin and Neil and Katelyn and everyone else had cells of their own. They were paying for their rebellion. For daring to find friendship and for carving out whatever kind of life they could for themselves. 

Jean couldn’t figure out where he was injured, or how badly. Fists had connected with every part of him, and the parts he could still feel under the cold hurt terribly. They’d said he’d be back out at work in a few days, but something in his heart told Jean he would not live that long. Something important inside him had been beaten too many times.

If there’d been any hope at all, maybe Jean would have fought. But there wasn’t, so he didn’t.

Jean waited, unable to sleep, until more food was brought. Swallowing it down was almost impossible, even with the beaker of water. It wasn’t enough, especially the water. Jean felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his eyes.

There was nothing else to do but wait. His body stiffened, still cold, everything aching. He tried to pace, but the darkness scared him. His eyes began seeing things that weren’t there - things he hoped could not be there.

Jean closed his eyes, and thought about Jeremy. It hurt - worse than the beatings, worse than the cold - but thinking of his dimples and the way he’d stumble over his words and then laugh at himself made Jean’s lips twitch up and a tiny warmth bloom in his chest that somehow made even the cold seem distant, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

When the door slammed open again, the lights and sounds from outside rang with violence. It crashed against Jean, startling him badly and sending his heart crashing around in his chest. His automatic response was to leap to his feet, but no part of him was able to cooperate. His body had completely stiffened up; cramps shot through his limbs, making him gasp.

He curled up further, despite the agony in his legs, expecting another beating. Expecting the worst. Life would not grant him another reprieve. Jean wasn’t sure he wanted one.

But the violence didn’t come. Jean’s heart pounded even harder, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. A whimper escaped his lips; pressed tight against the pain, but still weak.

Soft footsteps on the ground. He could hear them, just about, because his ear was pressed to it.

‘Jean?’

A woman’s voice. Softer than the footsteps. Jean’s brain stuttered in confusion.

‘Jean?’

The voice was gentle, cautious. A voice in Jean’s head said  _not a guard_.

Slowly, he uncovered his head.

‘That’s me,’ he croaked. His voice didn’t sound like his own. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.

The footsteps stopped, and then a pair of knees came down softly near his head. Jean flinched. The glare of the light coming through the open door was too strong for his eyes, and the noise was still alarming to him. He recoiled, from everything.

‘It’s ok,’ said the voice, and there was strength in it. ‘It’s time to go now, Jean. Can you stand?’

Jean could not stand, not without help. The arms that helped him up were slim, but so solid. They gripped Jean hard, but not with force, and dragged him to his feet. Jean tried so hard not to cry out, but the pain came sharp and fast, and it startled him.

‘Are you injured?’ the woman asked.

Jean knew he was, but couldn’t answer her. She was tiny, this woman. As small as Neil. Where was Neil? Where was  _Kevin_? The fighting outside was getting louder.

Only it wasn’t fighting. When Jean was finally upright, walking, staggering, the thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders, half-blinded by the light and more than a little deranged from everything else, he saw that his friends - Kevin, Neil, his brothers, were scrambling into their old uniforms and shaking almost as bad as he was.Jean felt a relief so strong his knees almost buckled - but he tensed up again upon seeing that they too were clearly injured.

Kevin almost broke his neck getting over to him. He stumbled over the legs of his uniform, not quite pulled all the way up yet, until he could grab Jean roughly by the shoulders with one hand. The other was wrapped tight in a makeshift, bloody bandage and held awkwardly to his chest.

He only grabbed him with one hand, but Jean hissed in pain anyway. He was bruised all over. Kevin didn’t even hear. His eyes were wide and panicked, trying to rush over Jean all at once.

‘Stop,’ he tried to say, through bitten lips. But even he he said it, Jean was reaching out to clutch at him. Kevin whimpered, and his forehead thudded against Jean’s shoulder. Neither of them liked hugs. But right now nothing could have pried their hands from each other. Jean rested his chin on Kevin’s bowed head, and he squeezed his eyes shut so that he couldn’t see the others staring at them.

‘Are you ok, are you ok?’ Kevin was mumbling. Which was ridiculous, since Kevin was clearly the injured one. ‘Are we ok?’

Jean turned his head, so he could press his cheek to Kevin’s hair. ‘I don’t know.’

They gave them another few moments together, and then Laila was there, grim-faced, shoving a uniform at him. ‘Put this on,’ she said. ‘Are you bleeding or broken?’

Jean shook his head. He thought a few fingers or toes might be dislocated, maybe broken, but there was no point in trying to find the words.

Jean dropped the blanket and did his best to get into the uniform. Everyone else stepped away or averted their eyes, but Kevin helped him. There was no part of each other they hadn’t seen. One thing Jean could never feel around Kevin was shame, because they had both fallen as low as they could fall, and they’d fallen together.

‘Your hand,’ Jean murmured.

‘Broken,’ Kevin replied, through gritted teeth. His face was white with pain.

Jean couldn’t manage to straighten up. Kevin zipped up the uniform and stepped back, and Jean’s arm went automatically around his chest. He felt like he was trying to hold himself together.

‘What’s happening,’ he asked. His teeth were chattering.

‘I don’t know,’ Kevin said, voice low. They both looked at Laila, but it was the woman beside Jean who answered.

‘We said we’d get you out,’ she said. Jean glanced at her, and saw the hint of a smile on her lips. Her face was very kind. It reminded him of -

‘Jeremy,’ he said, abruptly. ‘Where’s - ’

‘He’s close by,’ the woman said. ‘Jeremy knows the layout of this place better than any of us.’

‘He’ll meet us downstairs,’ Laila added. She was standing beside Neil, who definitely looked the worst of them. It may have been by virtue of being so small, or from standing beside Andrew, who carried the presence of three people. But it was probably more due to the fresh burns on his face, weeping and exposed, and the brown blood streaking his hands. Andrew had a hand resting on the back of his neck and looked ready to kill someone.

There was a lot of noise echoing around Jean, and he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. He also didn’t know where he was - it was a large, badly lit room, gray walls, with some blinking panels against the far wall. Someone’s legs were sticking out from underneath the panels, and there was a clanking sound coming from that general area.

‘Dan had to fix the doors before she could break them,’ smiled the small woman, nodding in the direction of the legs. ‘I’m Renee, by the way.’

Jean’s brain was too tired and addled to figure out what was going on, so he just quietly followed along after them when they began leading him out of the room and down a more familiar hallway. He’d been here before - he’d helped to build this.

‘We had special suites,’ Neil muttered. ‘Our own private wing.’

He seemed more lively than the rest of them; maybe he was still running on adrenalin. Jean just wanted to lie down and sleep.

‘Luckily, they decided to stash you right beside the control panels for the whole electrical circuit,’ explained the brown-haired woman, who had emerged from underneath the blinking panels to follow them out. She had a wide grin and looked excited. ‘Made it easy for us.’

A loud bang made Jean jump and stagger into the wall. He wasn’t the only one; Kevin and Neil both flinched and ducked for cover. The others didn’t seem so phased.

‘It’s ok,’ Renee said, one hand on Jean’s shoulder. ‘That’s us.’

The cell doors on either side of the hallway were thrown open. Jean didn’t spare the energy necessary to peer in and wonder where everyone was gone.

‘I’m sorry you were last,’ Renee said quietly, as they hurried towards the end of the hallway, where the stairs was. ‘It took us more time than we thought to get the hallway secured and the doors open.

Jean spotted a pair of legs sticking out of one door. They were wearing a pair of heavy guards boots and weren’t moving.

‘If we had time to get you some shoes, we would,’ said Renee, reading his mind again. Jean looked at her, and she shrugged. ‘Couldn’t guess your size.’

Jean was ok with that. Bare feet were the least of his struggles. He had to pause briefly to spit out a mouthful of blood, and a tooth.

‘Jesus,’ muttered Laila.

‘He’s fine,’ said Neil, quickly. Jean nodded, straightening up, grateful for the distraction. He was regaining sense, and saw that nothing mattered now except getting downstairs. But how were they to do that?

Laila had a gun, and she ran ahead of the rest of them. Jean couldn’t understand where the rest of the guards were, until they’d travelled down two levels and found the shouting and banging to be even louder, even more violent. They were an assault on Jean’s ears.

He never saw the conflict. It seemed to always be happening just out of range, just around another corner. The halls and corridors and open spaces he knew so well seemed utterly unfamiliar to him, now that they were filled with Laila and Andrew and Renee and Dan.

Kevin was keeping up just fine. His hand may be a ruin underneath those bloody bandages, but he had a fire in his eyes that would take a bullet to stop. Maybe not even that. Neil was definitely struggling - Jean could see blood seeping out from underneath his clothes - but if he fell, Andrew would simply carry him.

Jean looked to Renee constantly. She always looked back honestly, whether worried or confidant. Jean needed that. He didn’t want someone to tell him it was going to be ok if it wasn’t. He needed to know.

‘We’re almost there,’ Laila said. ‘We’re probably the last.’

‘Hope so,’ gasped Dan, who had been running back and forth to check they weren’t being followed. ‘Anyone who’s not out by now isn’t getting out.’

‘There shouldn’t be anyone,’ Laila muttered, pausing to listen for any sounds of incoming trouble.

Jean and Kevin looked at each other. ‘You can’t have convinced everyone,’ Kevin objected.

Laila glanced back at him. ‘Didn’t take much convincing,’ she said. ‘Leave or stay in your cell with no one to feed you.’

‘We won’t have enough trolleys for everyone,’ Dan said, as they began moving again. ‘But Matt is keeping three aside for you guys.’

‘Why?’

Renee glanced at Jean. ‘We didn’t know if you’d be up to the journey,’ she said, softly. Then she nodded at Kevin. ‘With good reason.’

Kevin would find it harder than any of them, with only one usable hand. Except maybe Neil, whose palms were dark with blood. Jean didn’t know if it was from cuts or if it had all just pooled there from injuries further up his arms. The thought made his stomach go tight with anger.

Laila did have to use her gun, once. A guard came upon them with a wild look in his eyes. Jean didn’t have time to recall his face under the mask of anger and fear before Laila shot him between the eyes. He dropped, and she ushered them past as quickly as she could. Jean’s heartbeat slammed against his chest, blood roaring in his ears. He was so badly startled that he didn’t hear Renee calling his name under she took his hands and squeezed them.

‘Jean,’ she was saying, urgently. ‘Steps. Be careful.’

It was the steps down to the basement. How many times had Jean skipped down these, pockets full of stolen food and heart full of hope? Jeremy was probably already gone with the rest of them. Jean could hardly straighten up - one arm still hugged his middle determinedly. He thought it fairly likely that he wouldn’t make the journey.

The tunnel room was bustling with activity, and looked ransacked. People Jean didn’t recognise were loading Neil’s carefully prepared sacks of goods on to trollies and dropping them into the tunnel. Jean spotted Katelyn, face tight with determination, tying one to her belt before getting into the tunnel and disappearing from sight. She was safe, then. Jean breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Laila slammed the door behind them, making them all jump. ‘Move,’ she said. ’They’re coming.’

Jean didn’t understand, but her words shot fire through everyone else. People began disappearing into the tunnel. Jean watched them tie Neil to a trolley and tether it to Andrew’s. Neil looked close to passing out; it was clear he wouldn’t be able to help himself. Kevin was similarly tied to Aaron’s, but he refused to be tied down. ‘I can do it,’ he said, grimly. ‘I still have one hand.’

Someone was down there on the other side of the tunnel, feeding the trollies through to each new person. Now they emerged from the hole, sweating and covered in dirt, and Jean’s heart soared.

Jeremy caught sight of him when he was half out of the tunnel. His eyes widened, a smile already in place as his lips parted to speak Jean’s name.

A loud bang from outside, in the hallway, stopped them all in their tracks. Then, heavy footfalls. Multiple. And a voice.

And suddenly, Jean’s brain was working very fast. If they came in here and found the tunnel, they’d follow it all the way until they caught every single person who’d used it. There’d be no stopping them. The bar on the door would not hold for long. They needed to be distracted long enough for everyone to get out and collapse the tunnel behind them. The safety measures. Jeremy had talked about them all the time.

Jean reached out and drew Laila’s gun from her belt. She turned on him, startled.

‘Go,’ Jean said, quietly. He tried to put as much force into the word as he could.

‘What?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t be stupid, you can - ‘

‘I can’t,’ Jean said. He couldn’t let go of his middle - it felt like something was poking him from the inside. ‘I won’t make it. You only need five minutes. Then collapse it behind you.’

Laila was one of the only ones left. Jeremy was still climbing out of the tunnel - he hadn’t heard him. Alvarez was following him, speaking rapidly. Probably trying to get him to follow everyone else. But Jeremy wouldn’t, of course. Not without Jean.

‘Get him out of here,’ Jean said, voice low and urgent. ‘Please.’

Laila was shaking her head, her dark eyes wide, but the guards were slamming against the door now. She met his eyes again, and Jean saw her understand.

‘You know how to use it?’ she asked.

Jean nodded. He’d seen it done far too many times to not know exactly how it worked.

It would have worked out fine, except Jeremy was too quick for him. He took two steps in Jean’s direction, saw the gun, and his face fell.

‘What are you doing?’ he demanded, shoving past Laila. ‘Why do you have that?’ His eyes scanned Jean’s face and body quickly. ‘You’re injured. Why isn’t he on a trolley already?’

‘Jeremy,’ Laila began, but Jean interrupted.

‘Can you hold the door for a minute?’ he asked her, quietly. ‘Just one minute.’

Laila growled in frustration, but shouted for Alvarez. The two of them put their weight against the bar on the door, trying to keep the guards from breaking the bar on the other side.

Jean turned to Jeremy, whose eyes were wide with confusion and fear.

‘I won’t make it on one of those,’ Jean said, as gently as he could. ‘You need to collapse the tunnel.’

‘No,’ Jeremy said, immediately. ‘We can all stay and fight them off. There’s four of us - and I could call someone back, Matt only just left - ‘

That would just put someone else in danger. That would put  _Jeremy_  in danger. Jean shook his head, trying to stay composed.

‘I know who’s out there,’ he said, quietly. ‘I can keep them busy. Give you all enough time. I’m good in a fight, remember?’

Jeremy’s expression was shifting to horror. Jean didn’t want to see that, but he refused to look away. Something shifted painfully in his chest when Jeremy reached out and grabbed the front of his uniform.

‘This was all for you,’ he said, voice cracking. ‘You  _have_  to get out, Jean. What’s the point if you don’t get out?’

Jean smiled, and tried to speak over the rising lump in his throat. ‘That’s not like you,’ he chided him. ‘You’ve got to take care of my brothers, ok? Especially Kevin. He can be difficult.’

Difficult wasn’t the word. Kevin might just lose his mind. But he had Neil and Andrew, and Jean had faith in them. They would save him.

‘I am  _not_  leaving you here,’ growled Jeremy. There were tears in his eyes, the warmth all fled, and Jean wished he could say something that would bring it back. But the time was almost upon them.

‘Laila,’ called Jean, and she was at his side immediately. When Jeremy wouldn’t budge she called for Alvarez.

‘Don’t,’ whispered Jeremy, sounding as shattered as Jean felt. ‘Jean. Please don’t do this.’

‘I have to,’ Jean replied, and it was every inch the truth. He’d known in his heart that he’d never truly be able to leave this place, and now here was the confirmation. This was something he could do. He could actually save them all. ‘Let me do this for you.’

He managed to uncurl his arm from around his middle, so that he could reach up and touch Jeremy’s cheek. There was blood on his fingertips; it was seeping through his uniform.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You gave me the world.’

Then he tugged his uniform out of Jeremy’s grip.

Jeremy fought Laila and Alvarez every inch of the way, but Jean had to trust in the strength of his friends because he could not watch Jeremy fight any longer. He turned his back on Jeremy’s voice, ignoring his own tears and the agony in his heart, and faced the shuddering door.

As the sounds at his back faded, Jean began thinking. A quick check of the gun showed seven bullets. That could be enough, if he was lucky.

Jean put his back to the wall, next to the door. He allowed it to burst open. He allowed them to file in, an uncounted many that really was not so many, but felt like far more than Jean could ever take.

And he walked in behind them, deceptively diminutive, shoulders tight with rage. Jean wrapped his fingers around the handle of the gun, counting out the seconds. Then he raised his arm.

 

Jeremy did his crying in the tunnel. It was the longest crawl of his life, and he had to do it with no trolley to roll along on, tears trickling down his face, struggling to breathe as his heart shredded itself inside his chest.

By the time they got to the halfway point, everyone else was already settled and being taken care of. Laila and Alvarez crawled out after him, collapsing on to the stone floor, but Laila rolled to her feet almost immediately, a wary look on her face. ‘Jeremy - ’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, getting up. ‘It’s fine. I’m going back.’

‘You are not,’ Laila said, but her voice was soft. ‘You can eat and sleep and then grieve, and then we have to go. Come on, someone needs to tell Kevin - ‘

‘No one’s telling him anything,’ Jeremy said, jerkily. ‘Nothing’s confirmed until I see - until there’s - ’

He bit off his words, trying to stay composed.

‘Jeremy,’ Alvarez began, her voice pained. ‘I know this is hard. But you can’t go back there, you just can’t. He was really beat up … there’s no way.’

‘You can’t decide that for me!’ Jeremy snapped. He ran a hand through his hair to dislodge the chunks of dirt, just for something to do.

‘Jeremy.’ Laila’s voice was strident, grabbing his attention. ‘Ok, halfway. You can’t go back - but you can wait. You can wait here until we have to go. Six hours. That’s enough time, if he … that’s enough time.’

Jeremy thought about fighting, but felt how his body was dragging him down.

‘You’d never make it there and back,’ Laila said, softly. She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘But you can stay here, until it’s time. I’ll bring you some food.’

She left quickly. Alvarez went to follow, then paused.

‘I tried to collapse it,’ she said, eyes averted. ‘But I don’t think I did it properly. Keep an ear out, ok?’

Hope flared in Jeremy’s chest. He thought about grabbing one of the discarded, sweaty trollies from the pile in the corner and going back on his own. But he knew his arms wouldn’t carry him there. He was shaking, exhausted. He’d been working hard all day, and now he was so drained by shock and grief it was all he could do to manage his slow descent to the ground.

Jeremy put his back to the wall, directly facing the tunnel. It was quiet in the room - someone’s old wine cellar. Jeremy knew they were doing environment sweeps outside, and might decide that it was too risky to stay put here for as long as they wanted to. He trained his eyes on the tunnel, and waited.

Hours passed. Laila brought him food and sat with him for a while, but had to leave again. She’d been promoted, apparently, to Jeremy’s old position. Jeremy wondered if that meant he’d been demoted. He’d been out of action for a while, and now he felt like he’d never get back into it. He was not the same man he’d been before.

Six hours. It was more than enough time. If Jean didn’t make it here by then, Jeremy would accept it. He’d go quietly, and he’d explain it to Kevin as best he could.

Jeremy did nod off, unable to fight it any longer. He had no idea what time it was, and his body was incredibly stressed. The sounds of movement startled him, and he initially thought he was hearing sounds of pursuit. He raised the gun and pointed it at the tunnel, fear infusing his veins with ice. His hands shook - his aim would be all off.

There were sounds of movement from up the stairs, outside in the main building. They were getting ready to move. The six hours were up.

The sounds from the tunnel paused. Jeremy held his breath. Then, a sigh, and a curse. ‘ _Merde_.’

The gun fell from Jeremy’s hands. With a cry, he launched himself at the tunnel, legs half dead beneath him.

Jean was completely filthy. It looked like he’d had to burrow through dirt. And there was so much blood - he was barely conscious. But he was on a trolley - somehow, he’d found a trolley.

‘You’re alive,’ gasped Jeremy, pulling him out with immense difficulty. The tunnel was about a foot off the ground and Jean was practically a dead weight. ‘How are you alive?’

Jean mumbled something unintelligible, then said, ‘Might have passed out a bit, sorry … were you waiting?’

Jeremy couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from. He started shouting for Laila, for Alvarez, anyone at all. Then he dropped his head until his forehead was pressed to Jean’s.

‘Am I dead?’ Jean wondered. Jeremy kissed him, and tasted blood.

‘No,’ he breathed. ‘You’re safe now. I’m going to take care of you.’

Jean’s hand came up and touched Jeremy’s hair. ‘Can you show me that sunrise now?’

Salt from Jeremy’s tears mixed with the blood on his lips. ‘Oh, right away,’ he said, settling his body down next to Jean’s. ‘And then we can have chocolate cake, and wine.’

‘Wine,’ Jean murmured. ‘Is that nice?’

‘I think you’d like it. I’m sure we can find a bottle somewhere.’

Jean smiled. His eyes were slipping shut, and Jeremy could not bring himself to get up and leave him. He could hear footsteps in the distance, though he wasn’t sure how far away they were.

‘And will you read to me?’ Jean’s lips were barely moving. ‘Then encyc … the …’

‘Encyclopedia,’ Jeremy said, desperate to keep him awake. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll read to you - all about France. Everything I can find. God, Jean, how did you get here - ‘

Jean’s eyes flickered open. ‘Had to see you again,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t die there … had to see you …’

Jean almost did die, there on the floor of someone’s wine cellar, drowned in his own blood. He would have, if someone hadn’t heard Jeremy’s shouts and brought help; a doctor, and many hands to carry Jean away. Jeremy followed, staggering, until his legs failed him. Laila slung an arm around him, growling something about dehydration. All around them bodies surged, making ready to leave. Their numbers had swelled; Palmetto wasn’t just a small militia anymore.

‘There’s movement from the Nest,’ called Alvarez. ‘We have to go now.’

‘Jean,’ protested Jeremy, struggling to see where they’d taken him.

‘Don’t worry,’ Laila said, grimly tugging him along. ‘You’re all going to the same place.’

The militia moved around them, swallowing them up, locking everything down and taking off into the darkness of pre-dawn, leaving no trace. Anyone trying to follow would have found themselves blinded by the rising sun

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for more drama and kissing


End file.
